The Salem Settlement
by Griff1007
Summary: In one moment, the earth burned and they all required just one thing; survival. So the Room provided. Two-Hundred years later, six wizards and witches come back to reality and find a world destroyed. A letter, telling of the last surviving wizards, leads them to Salem where they must fight once again to survive. /Adopted from Fulminanz. Read first 3 chapters under his name.
1. Chapter 0: Disclaimer

DISCLAIMER

This story is a cross over between Harry Potter and Fallout 4. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and is not meant for profit.

Be advised that this is a continuation of a story began by Fulminanz under the same title. He discontinued it and has graciously allowed me to adopt the story.

He could not provide me drafts of the first 3 Chapters, so you will have to find the story under the same title but with his name to read the 'beginning' of the story.

I say again, this is a continuation of his work. It starts immediately where he left off. I have stated that this is an adopted story in the description and in comments, but people are still cussing me out despite that. So to alleviate any further confusion, and to hopefully cut down on the non-constructive criticism, I am stating it clearly here: THIS IS A CONTINUATION. To read chapters 1, 2 and 3, go to Fulminanz's story by the same name.

For those loyally following the story, Chapter 17 will be ready to post in the next few days. Thank you for your patience.

Thank you.


	2. Chapter 1: Mighty, Mighty Man

**Chapter 1: Mighty, Mighty Man – Roy Brown**

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and Fallout aren't mine. I make no claim to either. I write this just for fun.

* * *

A/N: I've done a little editing work to shift things around a bit and correct a few errors during the first iteration. I've also made sure that Harry POV scenes outnumbered all the others (point in fact, they already did, I just increased the disparity more in Harry's favor). In reference to those who believe that there isn't any real motivation (big bad villain) for Harry and company, I restructured it so that the story is slightly longer but put into fewer chapters, therefore not being so weird that the big bad hadn't reared their ugly heads yet as of Chapter 2. I also wanted to take a moment to describe the "nerf" of magic. Magic is just as powerful as it was before the Great War. Though it is separate from science, it does interact with and is affected by the physical universe. The Great War, didn't wound it or anything, it made it... turbulent. Destructive spells are augmented and those spells designed to create something from nothing is tainted by the environment.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, somewhere in the Boston ruins**

'That can stay here too if you like.'

The warmth of her lips on his was a fading memory, steadily retreating from his grasp. The fantasy dim and elusive like a sinuous mist wreathing his mind.

The scent of her seemed to remain, haunting in the bittersweet longing it conjured. His sweet Ginny. The cloying reminder of a more innocent time conjuring a measure of confusion with the fondness. He hadn't dreamt of Ginny for a long time…

He blinked against the rays of bright sunlight stabbing into his eyes and groped for his glasses. His fingers closed on the metal frames and pulled them on to clarify the image of Piper crouched over him, concern etched on her features.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, as he sat up and pulled his wand free from beneath his bedroll.

"I was going to ask you the same thing, "Piper replied, "you were tossing around so much you woke me up, and you kept saying Ginny. Who's Ginny?"

He tried to offer a comforting smile, "No one, it's fine. Really."

She wanted to press him on it, the reporter in her coming to the fore, but the friend in her won out and decided that if he wanted to open up to her, he would when he was ready.

Harry got up and checked the wards he had placed last night to let them both sleep without interruption. It had grown late by the time they had left the Combat Zone and an unseasonable fog had made visibility nearly zero. Instead of blundering about in the dark, Harry had decided that it was probably best to find an abandoned building and hole up for the night.

His conversation with Hermione that night was much less acerbic than their previous talk. He gave her a quick update on his journey and had asked her to keep an eye out for Tommy Lonegan whom he had invited to settle in Salem. It threatened to turn into another argument when he had told her that Cait had moved on, her immediate insistence that he come home met with his utter refusal.

Harry sighed, he hadn't gotten the chance to tell Hermione about going to Diamond City to get Piper's sister. He had hoped that by providing enough of a cover story up front would reduce any suspicions she had once they were face to face.

It was just as well, he thought. He, Nat and Piper could come up with a vague and good enough cover story to satisfy Hermione.

He blinked, "What?"

"I said, are you ready to go? Diamond City isn't far." Piper prodded.

"Right. Let's go."

* * *

Sadness clouded Harry's face as he knelt at the body of the young woman shoved into the detritus along the side of the road. The woman's clothing was torn and bloody and a curious weapon lay broken next to her.

"Minuteman" Piper offered, "They used to be far more numerous, 'protecting people at a moment's notice'. They had been in decline for years and the last of them were wiped out during the Quincy massacre."

"She died trying to help." He noted, indicating the bodies of a few other people nearby, farmers by the way they were dressed.

"There are so few of her type nowadays. I hoped Blue would be a ray of hope, but…"

"Blue? Oh, you mean Nora?"

"Yeah." Piper replied, her face falling ever so slightly.

Harry didn't push her, knowing how it felt to be let down by someone.

"Years ago there was a man who I thought was the very definition of jealousy, treachery and immorality. I thought that of him for years. It wasn't until after he died that I found out about everything he'd done. That he was, beyond any doubt, one of the bravest men I've ever known."

Piper was intrigued but stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"Look, I'm not saying that this Nora isn't bad or good. I'm just saying that the idea we have of people, even despite the evidence right in front of us, can sometimes be wrong. I'm not trying to defend her or anything, leaving you behind like she did, I'm just saying that despite everything that's happened, some people deserve a second chance."

"Wow, that's pretty hopeful of you. If even half the stories you told me are true, I'd expect the opposite. You are quite the optimist, Harry Potter."

He gave her a grin and shook his head, "Come on, let's go."

"Aw, did I make the all-powerful wizard blush?" Piper teased.

He rolled his eyes at her and walked off, slowly at first so she could catch up.

After a few moments, he held up a hand and quirked his head to the side, hearing the not-so distant rattle of gunfire.

"Figures, that's the way we have to go." Piper whined.

Harry looked at her quizzically, "How can you tell? The way noise bounces around these streets make it impossible for me to tell where the shots are coming from."

"Years of practice avoiding trouble?" Piper offered, her statement clearing meeting with disbelief from Harry as he fixed her with a doubtful expression.

"Well, ok, years of practice, _looking_ for trouble."

"That I believe." Harry confirmed.

Looking around and seeing no good alternatives that didn't include moving far out of their way to avoid the firefight, he disillusioned the both of them and motioned for Piper to move as quickly but quietly as possible.

A few moments later, they found the source of the clamor. A small group of what Piper told him were Diamond City security were involved in a rather desperate shoot out with several super mutants."

"Great, super mutants." Piper muttered, "I had enough of these guys the last time I was out of the city."

"Yeah, I've had the displeasure already. Bad news."

"Unless you're another super mutant, and sometimes not even then, they kill you then eat you. Or eat you then kill you." Piper agreed.

They were safe for the moment, but the Diamond City security fellows were not in a good position. Their machine gun turret was a smoking ruin and at least two of them were slumped over, laying or sitting in pools of their own blood while their few remaining comrades huddled behind the scant plywood barriers and fired back with pipe rifles.

The super mutants were spaced out along 3 floors of a bombed out building, the jagged remnants of the brick front providing ample cover. They were better armed as well, with at least one of them firing some kind of machine gun at their hapless targets, laughing maniacally the whole time.

Harry scanned the building, noting that though it looked strong, it had taken a beating over the decades since the war. He wasn't an architect by any means, but he was pretty sure that the ruin was held up by little more than a single fairly intact brick wall.

He motioned Piper to follow him into an adjacent building, the thick layer of dust giving them the relief that this building at least wasn't occupied by something nasty.

He whispered to Piper, though it was hardly necessary over the riot of sound just outside, "I'm going to try something. Stay here and stay down."

"Now wait just a second!" Piper protested.

"Shhh!" he hissed, his glare silencing her for the moment.

"You might want to get ready to run." Potter warned, pointing at the door leading back out into the street close to the barrier the DSC was manning. "This is going to be loud."

Before she could question just what could be louder than half a dozen super mutants shooting and shouting a few yards away, he had already left to go back into the street.

She peeked out to see him flourish his wand.

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

Harry was engulfed by a massive cloud of red and brown dust as the wall exploded, the building groaning in protest. He was overcome by a coughing fit and Piper felt her heart stop as the super mutants all stopped shooting at the guards to regard the young man standing in the middle of the street coughing his lungs out.

Piper's eyes widened as one of the mutants raised his weapon to fire down at the helpless wizard when an ear shattering crack split the air. A vibration started gently but rose quickly in a crescendo, the super mutants fighting to keep their footing as they glanced around confused. The vibration reached its apex when the entire building fell forward, Piper darting out to grab a struggling Harry and pulled him in a run just ahead of the collapsing building. Tons of brick and metal buried the roaring super mutants as they tumbled through the air.

When the dust finally settled, a single mutant struggled to free his legs from the wreckage, howling in rage and pain as the DCS recovered from the shock of the building falling over to pepper the lone survivor with their rifles.

"Man, we are lucky you two came along! What was that you did anyway?"

Harry was in no position to answer, as he was busily rinsing his mouth of brick dust and coughing out miserably.

"Um, my friend here is a real hand with explosives."

"I'll say! However your friend here did it, we are grateful!"

They took some time to make sure that the security guards were ok, the two wounded men helped with the judicious use of stimpacks and let Harry recover from his brush with death.

"Thanks, for… you know."

Piper smirked, "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?"

"Right." He affirmed, returning her smile with one of his own.

"So, explosives expert eh?"

"I figured it was easier for them to accept than, 'he's a wizard and he used his magic wand to blow up the wall."

Harry chuckled, "Its fine. In the past, it was illegal for us wizards to use magic in front of Muggles."

"A muggle? What's a muggle?"

"You're a muggle"

"Oh yeah? Well, you smell funny." Piper retorted.

Harry had to physically keep hold of the guffaw that threatened to erupt from his mouth. His efforts were somewhat successful as only choking chortles escaped between his fingers. Piper laughed, her amusement having a musical quality to it.

"Muggle is just a word that means, non-magical folk. It's not an insult. Well, mostly."

"What's that mean? Mostly?"

"Magic ability is usually passed down from parent to child. There are some rare examples of non-magical families having a magical child though, Hermione being a prime example. However, there were some prominent families back then that thought that the use of magic should be reserved to the 'pureblood', or those with only fully magical ancestry. They considered muggles and those wizards and witches born to one or more muggle parents as beneath them. Thankfully, I don't think many of them survived the war." Harry thought back to Jeremiah's journal, wondering if he was still around and of that man's nasty opinion on the matter.

With the way now clear, they made it to the gates of Diamond City, the massive green doors yawning open as caravans moved in and out.

"Oh good, I won't have to connive my way back in again."

"I thought you lived here?" Harry questioned.

"I do, but the mayor and I aren't on the best of terms. I have a tendency to print the truth and he has the tendency to be a corrupt politician."

Harry could only shrug, straightening his glasses as the shadow of the gate fell over them as they walked in. He felt eyes on him, and looked around curiously. A bald man with sunglasses and in the uniform of the DCS looked away hurriedly, the glow from his cigarette briefly illuminating his face.

Harry thought no more of it as Piper led up a stairway and he got his first look at the great green jewel of the Commonwealth.

* * *

He was fairly certain that he hid his disappointment pretty well, the somewhat ramshackle appearance showcasing just what passed as 'the biggest and best' in the Commonwealth.

Piper had broken into a jog to the first shack where a young girl stood on a box, calling out to passerby to get the latest news. She saw Piper and jumped off the box, running to meet her.

"Piper!" She yelled, jumping into Piper's arms into a warm hug.

"Nat, this is my friend Harry." Piper announced, after setting her boisterous sister down.

"Hello." Harry grinned, holding out his hand.

Nat grasped his hand firmly for a pre-teen and gave it two vigorous shakes.

"Hey, kiddo, how are the paper sales?" Piper asked while cocking her head to the side, a gesture that Harry found oddly familiar.

"Well, the presses are getting overloaded. That motor is going to go soon if we don't replace it."

"I could maybe take a look at it, "Harry interjected, "if you don't mind."

"I didn't take you for a mechanic, though I'd be grateful for anything you could do. Though I wouldn't really be able to pay you or anything."

Harry scoffed good-naturedly, "No, no. You don't have to pay me anything. I just like newspapers."

"Is that right?" Nat asked rhetorically, "You get the press fixed and you get a free late edition 'Who's really in control of Diamond City?'" She gestured emphatically, the papers tucked under her arm nearly tumbling onto the ground.

"One of my favorite things to do was listen to the trains and read the paper, once upon a time." Harry recalled wistfully.

"Trains? Are you touched or something?" Nat retorted.

"Natalie Wright!" Piper shouted, scandalized.

"It's alright." Harry laughed.

Nat eyed Piper sidelong and abruptly changed the subject, "So what are you doing in Diamond City, anyway?"

He looked at Piper for a moment, noting her eyes darting towards the Publick Occurrence building to indicate a more private venue.

Piper led the way with Harry and Nat following her inside, as they walked in through the doorway Harry started to explain, "I'm looking for someone, a young lady named Cait."

"You're in bad luck. No one tries to find missing people in Diamond City. Missing people means the Institute's involved." Nat replied sagely.

"The Institute?" Harry asked.

"You ain't heard of the Institute, mister? They snatch people up in the night and no one hears from them again."

"We've printed stories on it. The Institute, Myth or Menace? One of my finer editorials, if I say so myself." Piper added.

Nat chuckled, "You're a real lost lamb in the wolf's den, mister."

Harry looked at them both, wondering if maybe they were having him on. Shaking his head slightly, he steered the conversation back a bit as they settled in the office/workspace the two apparently also lived in.

"No, the one I'm looking for went off with the…"

"The Vault Dweller, Nora." Piper helpfully provided.

"Right, the Vault Dweller. I need to find her companion."

"The Valentine Detective Agency is the same place Blue… Nora was directed to. But I don't know what came of it, she went to his office and never mentioned it again when the two of us left to head north."

Piper paused, as if to collect herself from a crisis of emotion, "One of the last minutemen… well, I guess literally THE last minuteman, Preston Garvey had asked for her help in checking out a farm to the north. Tenpines I think it was called. We met with them and found out that they were under threat from some raiders. Blue and I actually went to handle 'em, a group using the old Corvega factory as a hideout."

"What happened there?" Harry prodded gently.

"She attacked. I remember her face, Potter, it was like she was possessed. Gone was the mother desperate to find her child. No, here was a whirlwind of chaos that enjoyed the din and clamor of the fight. She killed a dozen of them, at least. But I suppose once she had had her fun, she moved on. Never bothering to go back to Tenpines to tell them anything. Not even sure if we got them all. Hell, for all I know, the raiders figured out who had pointed them out to the crazy vault dweller. "Piper emphasized her words with her hands waving in the air at the term, 'crazy.'

"For all I know, those settlers are dead. We just up and left! I tried to talk her into going back, maybe checking in with her friend Preston at least. But she had other plans. Left me in the dust."

Harry took her hand, Piper startling out of her immersive story telling before breathing out a sigh and smiling at him in appreciation.

"That's neither here nor there. Nat, pack your stuff! We're going to Salem! After we talk to Nick of course."

"Salem! Why would we leave Diamond City?!" Nat was incredulous, caught completely off-guard by the unusual announcement.

"I can't just leave you here while I'm out there, getting my butt into trouble. I almost didn't make it back last time, and where would that leave you?"

"You decide this now? How many times have you left me behind for one of your stories? I've been fine everytime! And so have you! You come back with the scoop and together we bring the word to the people! I'm NOT going!"

Nat practically screamed that last, defiantly stomping up the rickety stairs to the loft and from the sound of it, was busily redecorating the space with vigor.

"She's right, Potter. I'm a big hypocrite." Piper lamented softly.

"Don't think like that. You're doing the right thing. Important thing is, that she's safe and there's plenty of people there that will look after her. Hermione especially. Besides, there's no reason you can't take all this with you. It'd be nice to have a local paper."

Piper seemed reticent, worry gnawing at her lower lip as she considered his words.

Harry took the opportunity to call gently after Nat, who after several moments consented to come down, albeit with a sullen expression painted clearly on her face.

He graced her a simple smile before pointing his wand at the stubborn printing press, "Machina Reparo."

His wand became lit with a cerulean glow, the soft light brightening the room as Harry moved it in a small circle towards the printing press. The machinery groaned as if in protest as screws and bolts pulled themselves free while the parts they held shivered and straightened. The hardware reseated themselves and the press gave one mighty lurch, a billowing cloud of accumulated dust coughing forth from it before it settled down.

The three of them coughed out the dust, the two women looking at the gleaming printing press with awe as Harry looked on with proud satisfaction.

"How… who did you do that?!" Nat exclaimed, finally finding her voice.

Harry merely shrugged, "I'm a wizard."

"A wizard?!" Nat's face screwed up incredulously. She took to looking at the printing press and at Harry in turn several times, her shock not diminished in the slightest.

"You can do magic?!" She breathed.

"That's right. A rare thing, some people are born with the ability to do magic."

"That's… incredible!"

"Salem is a settlement built by wizards and witches. There are several others there now."

"Could I learn how to do magic?"

Harry shook his head sadly, "I'm afraid not. Like I said, it's a rare thing. You have to be born with the ability."

Nat's face was crestfallen, but brightened quickly enough, "But I can still go to Salem? See all kinds of magic from these others you were talking about?"

"Absolutely. Just because you can't do magic yourself doesn't mean you can't benefit from it. Maybe one of these days, I'll take you flying on a broom."

"FLY?! On a BROOM!?" Nat squealed, nearly clapping her hands in excitement. She chattered on as she ran up the stairs, the occasional question flying down to bombard poor Harry and the girl packed.

"I don't know what to take and what to leave!" She wailed.

"I have a solution for that too." Harry called up with a grin.

A few minutes later, Piper was leading Harry to the Valentine Detective Agency, leaving an enthralled Nat to finish packing their old home now that everything was shrunk down as if it belonged in a doll house.

Harry was still smiling as Piper ushered him into the Agency, the glow from the neon heart coloring them both in a ruddy pink shade.

Inside, a young women with brown hair tucked up into a bun was pacing nervously, muttering to herself as she idly picked up errant files before setting them down again in another seemingly random place. It took several moments before she even noticed anyone was there.

She looked up suddenly and seeing Harry first, snapped, "Another stray coming in from the rain. 'Fraid you're too late. Office is closed."

She looked on the verge of tears and almost went back to her nervous pacing before noticing that Piper was there too.

"Oh Piper, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to you too, mister."

"Ellie, what's wrong? Where's Nick?" Piper asked, almost reaching for a notepad.

"Nick's disappeared, and I can't keep a detective agency open without a detective. I had to send away that Vault dweller too."

Piper tensed at the mention of Nora, Harry comforting the agitated reporter with a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Nicky's missing? What has he gotten himself into this time?" Piper asked, getting back on track.

Ellie's eyes were downcast in worry as she answered, "Nick was working a case. Skinny Malone's gang had kidnapped a young woman, and he tracked them down to their hideout in Park Street Station."

Piper glanced at Harry, a question in her eyes. At his nod, she turned back to Ellie, "Hey, don't worry. Harry and I will find him. You have my word. Do you have any more info?"

"There's an old Vault down there they use as a base. I told Nick he was walking into a trap, but he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does."

Harry straightened his armor and hefted his gun, though to this point, Piper had never seen him shoot it. He fixed Ellie Perkins with a serious look and said simply, "I'll find him."

"Thank you." Ellie said gratefully.

As they left the Agency, Harry turned to Piper, "Do you know about this tosser, Skinny Malone?"

"I don't know much about him, but he's from Goodneighbor… another settlement nearby. That means he's in the well-pressed suits and machine guns school of thuggery."

After a brief stop to check in on Nat and let her know what was going on, the duo walked out of the gates to find their missing Valentine.

* * *

His back screamed at him from being hunched over for so long, as the pair half crawled their way as quietly as they could through Park Street Station. The old subway was full of patrolling Triggermen as Piper called them, looking like they stepped right out of a 1930's American Gangster film. He tried watching one once, but Dudley had used his bulk to knock Harry from the sofa and claimed the telly for himself.

Thankfully, a simple disillusionment over the pair of them hid them well enough from the Triggermen. Their luck seemed to hold as they approached the massive cog wheeled vault door to find it wide open and the immediate area within to be empty.

"Looks like that's the only way in." Harry murmured, crouching at the edge of a hole.

"Not for you two mooks." A harsh voice rasped.

Harry closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He glanced up and found that their disillusionment charms had worn off without him noticing and that there was a very angry looking man glaring down at them. He looked as though all the skin had been burned off, leaving horrific scarring over his entire body. That was of less concern though than the submachine gun he had levelled at them.

"Stupify!" He shouted, brandishing his wand with a speed that took both his target and Piper by surprise. A red flash of light splashed against the Triggerman and actually threw him back to land in a crash into a shelf stacked with building materials.

Harry winced at the noise and gestured for Piper to follow him, tugging on her sleeve when she didn't immediately respond, her attention still on the knocked out triggerman.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked Piper.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Potter!"

Gripping her hand tightly, he pulled her along with him as they jumped down into the bowels of Vault 114.

* * *

 **POV: Neville Longbottom, somewhere in the North Commonwealth**

The clean wind felt nice as it tousled his dark hair, the sky warm and clear after the brief but disconcerting radiation storm that had blown in from the west. The rickety old broom he flew wasn't very fast but that suited Neville just fine, as he was never much for flying anyway.

Rebuilding Salem was hard but satisfying work, his gardens coming along nicely despite the problems he continued to have with the soil. There was a measure of frustration with working on the completely new ecology, but it was tempered and made bearable by the wonders of discovery that came to him on a regular basis. Even so, it was nice to get out once in a while, especially given the opportunity to find new plants to supplement the small number he had cultivated in the town.

He had a strong desire to supplement the hardy yet disgusting tato plants, the strange hybrid of tomato and potato somehow making the resilient plant's fruit less than appetizing. Carrots had survived largely unchanged, growing only larger and more yellow than orange. Many of the herbs he was used to seeing hadn't survived the apocalypse, but he was eager to test out the properties of some unknown plants he had found, in particular a leafy flowering bush that some of the new settlers had called 'hubflower'.

He flew low and skirted a massive radar dish, a quick scan showing movement that he was loathe to investigate. He flew over a scrapyard without a second look and spotted a small lake, a smile lighting up his face at the prospect of discovering plants growing along the shores of the modest body of water.

Mud squelched around his shoes as he crept along the shoreline, a slight green glow beckoning him to a small outcropping of glowing mushrooms. Excitedly, he pulled the leather satchel he had brought to collect samples and began harvesting the interesting fungi, his thick leather gloves protecting him from any unforeseen dangers from handling the mysterious sample. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and held his glass vial up to the sun, the phosphorescent glow evident even in the midday sunlight.

A clacking sound made him whirl in place, his wand whipping out from his belt and his breath coming out in uneven rasps as he surveyed the area. He stepped back and felt a vibration near his foot. Looking down, his heart stopped as he realized that he had stumbled onto a mound of large ovoid eggs. Recognizing them as the same they had found in Salem, his eyes darted up and around, scanning for the inevitable mirelurk presence.

He was not disappointed as the armored shell of one of the beasts came into view, water streaming from its carapace as it lumbered onto the shore from the lake. Its jet black orbs were fixed on him, its mandibles twitching in agitation as it noted him standing amongst its eggs.

Neville backed up, his wand raised in warning as he carefully stepped over the egg mound. He winced as one of the speckled eggs began vibrating in eager anticipation. He back up more quickly, careful to not get tripped up on exposed roots and keeping an eye on the angry mirelurk.

The egg shattered with violence, its shell flying about like shrapnel as the tiny hatchling erupted from within and leapt straight for him. On instinct, Neville lashed with his wand, the angry red glare blasting the tiny creature away in a high pitched screech of pain. The mirelurk rushed forward angrily, two more shells breaking the surface of the lake as it was joined by more of its fellows.

A slight edge of panic gripped Neville in that moment, and he thrust his wand forward and cast the first curse to come to mind, 'Confringo!'

A fiery bead leapt from his want and struck the mirelurk as it scuttled forward. The resultant blast knocked it back into the water with a profound hiss of pain and anger as the creature rolled about on its shell to right itself. Its companions joined it, their awkward jostling actually impeding the fallen mirelurks attempts. Neville felt a stab of pain in his ankle and looking down, saw a tiny hatchling pinching at his legs. Furious, he kicked it towards its grown cousins.

"Baubillious!" A stream of white lightning burst from his wand and struck the water near the trio of mirelurks. The potent electrical charge forked and branched, engulfing the three creatures and their hapless offspring in crackling bolts of arcing fury.

Neville strained to hear past the ringing in his ears and blinked his eyes against the spots that impeded his vision. His nose, however, worked perfectly fine, the scent of ozone and roast crab assaulting his senses and actually making him feel quite hungry. He curled his lips in distaste at the state of the mirelurks, their shells having been blasted clear off their bodies, steam rising from their cooked flesh.

Not wishing to tempt fate further, Neville secured his sample and got back on his broom, sweeping up and over the island to the northwest. Landing on the northern shore, where the lake narrowed into a shallow stream, he spotted another interesting plant.

It was a reddish orange broad petal flower growing partially in the water. Its petals were thick with water and had a sickly sweet smell to them. He gathered up several samples and was examining one when the echo of gunfire reached him.

Dropping his prize, he ran up a gentle hill toward the center of the island and found himself looking at the backs of several demolished houses. Most were ruined beyond use but several, he noted curiously, appeared to be lived in, rough patches covering the worst of the damage.

The gunfire renewed and increased in both tempo and volume. The random chorus of pops accompanied by panicked shouting and wild cries. He peeked around the house and saw a blur as an armored figure dashed by, its crude pistol barking.

He disillusioned himself and crept further around the house, his wand ready to shield himself should any shots come his way.

He gasped at the battle taking place on the street between the rows of partially restored houses. Along one side, unarmored people including one wearing vintage clothing were fighting back desperately against a half dozen filthy men and women wearing scrap metal armor.

He took a chance and a side, levelling his wand at the backs of the 'invading' raiders.

"Stupify!"

The red bolt of energy slammed into the back of the nearest raider, a spiky haired woman whose double barreled shotgun flew up into the air as she fell forward.

"Stupfiy!" An impressively fat man, whose improvised armor strained to contain his bulk, slammed face first into one of the houses and slid down in an unconscious heap.

"Stupify!" A gangly youth, whose expression of shock was almost comical, flew backward over a wooden barricade the settlers had erected.

He stopped himself before stunning another, his target shimmering with intense luminescence before cascading in a rain of glowing ash.

Silence reigned as he fought to regain his breath, just now realizing that he had been holding his breath the entire time.

A dark skinned man, the one in the vintage clothing, cautiously approached. Neville straightened his coat and flashed a crooked grin the man's way, attempting to put him at ease.

"Man, are we lucky you came along. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen." The dark skinned man said, by way of introduction.

"Neville Longbottom, um… herbologist out of Salem."

"Salem huh? Haven't heard of any settlement up that way."

"We're pretty new."

"I can't seem to place your accent…"

"Oh, I'm originally from England."

"Across the Atlantic?! How did you get all the way over here?"

Neville paused, unsure of just how much he should reveal, "Travelled by boat. It was long and hard, but we heard there were survivors here. There's nothing left for us in Britain."

Preston gave him a sympathetic look, "Sorry. I know how that feels."

The others eventually came out from their cover in the wake of their conversation, glancing at Neville in equal measure of awe and suspicion. Preston stopped a hangdog looking Asian fellow and whispered to him for a moment, gesturing to the dead and stunned raiders.

"That's Jun Long," Preston answered Neville's questioning gaze, "and that's his wife Marcy." Indicating the angry looking Hispanic woman.

"Mama Murphy and Sturges," He gestured, pointing out the last two members of the group, "the last survivors of Quincy."

"Quincy?"

"Settlement to the south, wiped out by a mercenary group called the Gunners. It's where the Minutemen effectively died." Preston lamented sadly.

Neville awkwardly patted Preston on the shoulder, but the look on the man's face showed that he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"So who were the Minutemen?"

Preston puffed himself up, like a military recruiter ready to deliver an impassioned speech to a group of hopefuls.

"Defend the people at a moment's notice. That was the idea. We were founded over a hundred years ago by a group of communities to protect themselves from the numerous threats in the Commonwealth. It really took off in 2180, when a group of Minutemen successfully defended Diamond City from a Super Mutant attack."

"But you said that the Minutemen died at Quincy? How? If it was spread out…" Neville was confused, how could an organization spread out over several towns and villages be wiped out in a single incident?

"It started before then, when we lost the Castle. It was our main base of operations and we were forced to abandon it in 2240. Soon after General Becker, our last leader, died and the different groups of Minutemen didn't agree on who should take his place."

By this time, Preston had escorted an interested Neville to a house that had been built up slightly more than the rest, with a hodgepodge of chairs spread out under the carport next to workstations and crates. They sat as Preston continued his history lesson.

"Without the Castle and radio tower that could reach every corner of the Commonwealth, and the lack of a real leader, the Minutemen began falling apart. I was with Colonel Hollis' group. We were the only one to respond when Quincy asked for help. At first, it went well. The Gunners had already started their attack when we arrived. We hit them from the rear and managed to drive them off. Colonel Hollis moved us into the town and then sent out the request for reinforcement from other groups. None of them came."

Preston paused here, hanging his head and took off his hat to let it hang from his fingers as he muttered his way through the rest of the story.

Neville had to strain to hear him, "Clint betrayed us. He defected to the Gunners and showed them how to attack the town. They came at us from the ruins of the highway which overlooked us. It really was a massacre. Twenty of us made it out, a handful of Minutemen and Quincy survivors."

"They caught up to us at Jamaica Plain where we lost more people. We broke out and tried to make for Lexington. But the ghouls there…"

Preston took a deep breath, "Only eight came out of there alive. We went to Concord next, figured we could start over. The place looked quiet. Should've known better. A group of raiders killed three more, the five of us are all that are left now."

He looked up at the settlers, watching them work around the neighborhood. Jun carefully ending the unconscious raider's lives with a quick nick of his switchblade, before stripping the men and women of anything of value and dragging them off to parts unknown.

Neville swallowed in distaste, almost saying something about the murder of the men and woman he had stunned, but thought better of it at the look on Preston's face.

"What happened at Concord?" Neville pressed, anxious to get the image of Jun's knife flashing red from his mind.

"We held up in the Museum of Freedom… ironic eh? I thought we were finished. Then, from out of nowhere, a woman in a Vault suit shows up, helps me take out the raiders storming the front. I yelled down at her, this angel, begged her to help. I had never begged anyone in my life."

"But she did it. She took out the raiders in the museum. Reached us just before the main raider group got into position. She implemented our plan to reactivate a suit of power armor and use the minigun off of a crashed vertibird and gave those raider's hell!"

Preston's eyes were alight with the memory, "It was quite the display. The noise of the battle must have disturbed it, I have never seen anything like it."

By now, Neville was fully entranced, "What? What was it?"

"Its roar shook the very ground, I felt it from the balcony, it ripped its way up through the street like a demon clawing its way up from the depths of hell. A deathclaw, had to have been nine, maybe ten feet tall. It swiped at a raider, cut the woman in half as if it was nothing. Then it went after the Vault dweller."

He took a deep breath, Neville leaning in eagerly to hear the rest of the story. It seemed unbelievable, except when compared to some of his own stories of the 2d Wizarding War, he realized.

"Even in a hundred pounds of steel armor, that deathclaw knocked her around like a ragdoll. I shot down at it in desperation but my laser musket didn't seem to do much to it. It took hundreds of rounds from the minigun before that thing finally fell, most of the armor plates had been torn off the frame of the power armor and she was a battered bloody mess. But she did it. She saved us."

"Must have been quite a lady." Neville commented.

"Won't argue with you there. I wished she had stayed here with us, but she had troubles of her own."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long, couple of weeks. It's been quiet here, that group of raiders is the first trouble we've had since arriving. They got the drop on me, waited until I was on the opposite side by the old north bridge before crossing from the ridge to the north, they were in the middle of the settlement before I even knew they were there."

Neville could tell that Preston blamed himself, despite the fact the one man couldn't possibly defend the island by himself.

He would offer them a place at Salem, but hesitated when his mind ran through the logistics. They had already travelled so far. Despite being here for weeks, they were all underfed and tired. Taking the journey from here to Salem on foot was daunting to say the least. But surely there was something he could do for them?

By that afternoon, the six of them were sitting in beaten up old chairs swapping stories, though Marcy stayed mostly silent and sullen through the friendly exchange.

"You know, the soil here seems pretty good. Should be good for crops and herbs." Neville commented.

"That'd be great, if we had anything to plant." Sturges lamented, "We're just about out of food too. Water's good though, we got the purifier set up in the river down that a way."

"I'm more worried about our lack of proper defenses." Preston added.

"Yeah well, if we had good defenses, maybe YOU could take a break for once." Sturges remarked dryly, "I've been working on getting some turrets set up, but it's slow getting the parts I need."

"I fl…passed by a scrapyard on the way here." Neville interrupted, "It might have the parts you're missing."

"Hey, that'd be great! One problem down, a thousand to go." Despite the pessimism of the comment, Sturges spoke with an easy smile, nothing seemed to bother the self-proclaimed tinkerer for long.

Noting the sun slowly sinking on its journey west, Neville stood up, "I'm going to head back to Salem, but I'll come back with some help and the parts you need from that scrapyard. But before I go, could you come out to the street for a moment?"

The bewildered residents were probably more motivated by curiosity than anything else as they shambled out from under the carport to join him in front of the house they had taken up residence in.

"Reparo." He murmured.

Preston turned to him to ask him to repeat what he had just said when he paused, awestruck. Neville's eyes were closed in intense concentration but what really shut Preston up, was the glow coming from the rod he waved through the air.

He heard it, a sort of tinkling sound that slowly built up in both volume and tempo. If his jaw hadn't been attached, it would have fallen onto the street at the sight of the house… rebuilding itself, as if by… magic.

Neville let out a heavy sigh as he finished, the settlers in awestruck silence at the nearly pristine condition of the house, almost as if a window was granted to them to see the world as it was before the war. Almost, Neville was a little disconcerted to see that the repair wasn't as complete as he would have liked. But, he had to admit to himself, he wasn't the best at these kinds of charms and 200 plus years of decay would likely affect the outcome of any similar magic.

Despite Neville's misgivings, the settlers were awestruck. They alternated between looking at the rebuilt home and the man who had made it happen. Mama Murphy seemed to be the only one completely unsurprised, only standing there crookedly with a faraway look in her eyes.

"Man! I thought you were using some kind of stun rod on those raiders earlier, I didn't know it could do that too! Where can I get one of those?" Sturges exclaimed.

"How did you do that?!" Jun added.

Their questions came one atop the other, Neville barely able to distinguish who was asking what.

"Hey now, everyone hush!" Preston ordered, he turned to Neville with expectant eyes.

Neville took a deep breath, the longstanding law and tradition against revealing the wizarding world to muggles still giving him pause despite the lack of any Ministry to enforce it.

"I'm a wizard." He said simply, looking at the settlers for their reaction.

They looked at him in silence, then at each other.

The silence was broken by Sturges, "Well, whatever it is, I'm am sure glad to make your acquaintance!"

Neville found himself vigorously shaking hands with both Preston and Sturges, even Marcy withholding a scathing comment to ALMOST smile at him.

"In any case, you should be more comfortable now. Like I said, I'll be back with some friends to see about getting you lot fixed up better."

A little less than an hour later, he flew low over the northern part of the lake, his face seemingly permanently stuck in a grin as he recalled the wonder and joy the settler's had once they moved into the rebuilt home. Once Sturges hooked up his jury rigged generator to it, the house lit up with such a welcoming glow that Jun almost wept. Marcy punched him lightly on the shoulder, but the move was more to hide her own feelings than recriminate him for his. They marveled at the running water, working refrigerator and the cool dry air blowing in from the vent scattered through the house. He and Jun then ran water from the purifier into the house. By the time he finally extricated himself, they were drawing lots over who would get to use the working shower first.

With a satchel full of plant samples and new friends, Neville whistled happily to himself as he flew back to Salem.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Vault 114**

Harry and Piper, still making their way through the vault under the disillusionment charm, paused at the bottom of a staircase, listening to Nick actually convincing the Triggerman who had been taunting him to bugger off. He took the stairs 3 at a time in his haste to find his 'boss' and plead his innocence. Harry glanced at Piper as he felt the wind from the man's rushed passage. Her outline shrugged and with a tap to her shoulder, they moved up the stairs to the sealed door holding their rescue.

A few minutes and some confusing instructions later, Harry and Piper finally managed to get the terminal to open the pressurized door and get a good look at the detective.

Harry found himself unable to articulate, his wide eyes taking in the unique figure of Nick Valentine. The 'man', to use the term loosely, looked almost every inch the quintessential private dick. What he couldn't reconcile with what he knew of the muggle world, was that as far as he knew, muggles didn't have yellow glowing eyes or plastic 'skin' over a metal endoskeleton. He took off his glasses hurriedly, wiping them clean of dust before replacing them on his face, as if doing so would somehow change the scene he found himself in.

"Ah, my knights in shining armor. But the question is, why does he come all this way, risk life and limb, for an old private eye?"

He threw a wink Piper's way, somewhat amused by the common reaction at his appearance.

Harry finally found his voice, "What… are you?"

"Told you. I'm a detective. Look, I know the skin and metal parts ain't comforting, but it's not important right now."

"Right." Piper interjected, "Nick's good people, he really is. But what I want to know, is why were you locked up?"

"I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak." Nick replied.

Nick smiled at them, helping himself to a pack of Grey Tortoise cigarettes on the desk. He lit one and stuck the pack into his pocket, the cherry glow on his face lending his face an even more horrifying aspect.

Harry finally found his voice, "I need you to find someone, but it's complicated. I don't know exactly where they could be or how long they've been gone."

"Well I've done jobs with less. Somehow "nice and simple" never makes it onto the menu in my world. Anyway, you got troubles, and I'm glad to help. But now ain't the time. Let's blow this joint. Then we'll talk."

Harry nodded, more than willing to put the strangeness of the situation on permanent back burner. He trusted Piper's word and Nick seemed friendly enough. Given that the world he remembered was replete with creatures that would confound most muggles, he could at least give Mr. Valentine the benefit of the doubt.

The trio made their way back down to the 1st floor of the atrium, just as the sound of running feet presaged the arrival of several triggermen.

"So, how do you want to play this?" Nick asked, as the pressure doors opened and several gangsters appeared, their weapons at the ready.

Harry smirked crookedly at Nick and stood up, waving his wand in a circular motion in front of him to conjure a shield of force. The surprised Triggermen gaped at the brazen man before replying with their trademark solution to confusing situations, submachine gun fire.

The bullets whizzed and pinged as they struck his shield, making Harry wince despite the protection he enjoyed. Setting his gaze determinedly forward, he strode with purpose and blasted the men with red flashes of light, the bolts unerringly finding each of the gangsters and knocking them away with pained cries.

Nick was flabbergasted, fixing Piper with a questioning gaze as Harry continued to fill the corridors with his light show. She shrugged back at the inquisitive synth detective and got up to catch up with the impressive wizard.

BREAK

 **POV: George Weasley, Salem settlement**

George was fascinated by the contraption he had found in one of the houses. It looked like a small yellow pony, a toy of some kind that in its prime, moved and interacted with children. He examined its mechanisms and marveled at the ingenuity of muggles, a fascination once shared with his father, Arthur. Though heavy, he managed to levitate it and brought it down to his workshop, an area he had set aside for his own use in one of the rebuilt homes where a multitude of interesting finds already littered every available shelf and work bench.

"Looks like a fairly intact Giddyup buttercup you got there."

"What?" George asked, his attention firmly on the horse-like toy.

A somewhat elderly gentleman smiled kindly at him from his seat on a park bench. The man was dressed in a well-fitted grey suit with a fedora perched atop his grey head. He was one of the newer settlers to join Salem, coming in a few days ago with his two grandchildren. George couldn't for the life of him remember his name.

"Walt." The man provided, standing up and giving George a firm handshake in greeting, "I was admiring your Giddyup Buttercup there."

"Giddyup Buttercup, eh?"

"Yep. Pre-war toy, pretty popular from the looks of it, what with all the bits of pieces of em scattered all around the 'wealth. Rare to find one intact like that though. I almost had enough pieces to put one together for my grand babies before we had to leave our old place."

"So you know mechanics and such?"

"My dad taught me what he knew. Had a few books on the subject that I read, came in handy running a scrapyard."

"Brilliant!" George exclaimed, "Then maybe you can help me out with a little project I had in mind."

"I'd be happy to help. Be good to pitch in and help out around here, with all the good your folks have done for me and mine."

Walt walked with George to his workshop, listening intently to George as he excitedly filled him in on his idea.

"So, tell me… what do you know about owls?"

BREAK

 **POV: Harry Potter, Vault 114**

About a dozen stunned triggermen later, Harry and company found themselves behind a pressure door leading back to the main entrance to the vault. Nick bent to the task of bypassing the seal on the door, humming to himself as he worked on the controls.

"Okay, I got it, but I hear big fat footsteps on the other side. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything."

The pressure door slid open with a hiss, revealing a less than warm reception waiting for them on the other side. A well rounded fellow whose tuxedo strained to contain his bulk, who Harry surmised was the ironically named Skinny Malone, glared at them over his double barreled shotgun. He was flanked by two of his cronies and a dolled up lady whose beauty was marred by the sneer on her face and the bat she wielded.

"Nicky? What're you doin? You come into my house. Shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back." Malone protested.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often." Nicky shot back.

The sneering woman compounded her apparent flaws with her high pitched and grating voice, "Awww… poor little Valentine. Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?"

Malone cut in with a glare at the synth, "Should've left it alone Nicky. This ain't the old neighborhood. In the vault, I'm king of the castle, you hear me?"

He continued his diatribe, "And I ain't letting some private dick shut us down now that I finally got a good thing goin?"

Darla had to add her 2 cents, "I told you we should've just killed him, but then you had to go all sentimental! All that stupid crap about the "old times".

Skunny Malone turned to Darla with a pleading look, "Darla, I'm handling this! Skinny Malone's always got things under control."

"Oh yeah, then what's this boy and this reporter doing here huh? Valentine must have brought them here to rub us all out!"

This was edging far too uncomfortably into a campy black and white film for Harry's taste, with the gangster slang being thrown about by all these tossers.

He sighed heavily and flourished his wand more out of frustration than any measure of malice. Before the astounding looks of the Triggermen, bolts of red energy flew out from his wand and swirled around him for a moment before darting out to strike each of them dead center in their chests.

Darla shrieked as the men all around her fell in nerveless heaps. Her eyes darted around at each of the men and her bat falling from numb fingers to clatter onto the metal floor.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Darla didn't have time to ponder the phrase before a wave of energy slammed into her and locked her body into rigidity. She teetered for a moment and began to fall backward, Harry darting forward to keep her from smacking into the floor.

"A little help here?" Harry grunted, as he wrestled with the young woman's dead weight.

"I'm not even going to ask." Nicky stated, as he took the rigid woman from Harry and hefted her easily over his shoulder. Piper stifled a giggle at the sight, Darla's body looking like a stiff length of wood on Nick's shoulder. She cleared her throat and re-arranged the woman's dress so that less of her unmentionables was visible. With a chortle of amusement, Nick led them out of the Vault, stepping around the prone mountain of flesh called Skinny Malone.

BREAK

 **POV: None, Somewhere to the west of the Glowing Sea**

A missile came screaming in, blasting the wall into fragments and hurtling the body of the raider bloodily into the air. With a long suffering groan, the rest of the building collapsed, scattering the other raiders that had sought cover there, save the two that were crushed beneath tons of rock and dust. The Gunners who had been hired to clear this township northwest of Glowing Sea shouted in triumph as their quarry scurried from their ruined den. Laser fire stitched the battlefield, the coppery tang of blood and hot metal thick in the air.

Thick clouds of smoke rose from the other side of the street, as the other squad of Gunners filled the air with fyceline stink and purifying flame. The flamer wielding Lieutenant grinned, his white teeth shining against the soot blackened skin of his face. Another raider, a woman in scavenged metal armor, shrieked as her flesh bubbled and blackened beneath the hosing fire.

Little did the embattled raiders know, that deep beneath them, the shockwave of the collapsing building reverberated through a series of caverns that time had long forgotten. In one cavern in particular, the shockwave manifested as a minute tremble, a momentary tremor in the bedrock that sent a handful of pebbles clattering down onto the cavern floor.

They skipped and bounced against ancient runes, their passage scratching the once impervious barrier. The magic that had held their charge against the ravages of time fell without fanfare, the crouching woman bound in their center taking her first free breath in almost 3 centuries. She trembled with the renewed sensation of life flowing through her veins, her heart thudding in her chest as if laboring to move blood unaccustomed to verve. With an expression of pure will, light blossomed in the cavernous space and dispelled the darkness surrounding the woman.

Her dress was old, a style not seen since the Victorian era, but unlike their contemporaries of that prudish age, did little to lend her womanly body any sense of modesty. Raven hair framed a delicate face unmarred by time or worry, porcelain skin seeming to glow in the light of her luminous power.

She gasped as the memory of her past life slammed into her with shocking realization. The Magical Congress had discovered her, hiding in plain sight among them. The wizarding world had thought her long dead and was quite concerned that the alleged dark witch was in fact, alive. So they had trapped her down here, imprisoned for all time.

Despite their intentions, Morgan Le Fay was free once again.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Valentine Detective Agency, Diamond City**

"So tell me, what can this old private dick do for you?" Nick asked, as he settled in his chair, the cherry glow from his cigarette casting his face in an ominous glow.

"I'm looking for someone. A young woman named Cait who was last seen in the company of a vault dweller named Nora."

"A vault dweller came in to see you, but left when I told her that we were closed on account of you being missing." Ellie Perkins added.

"Ah, some dame roaming the wasteland eh? I don't suppose you have more to go on than that?"

"I wish I could tell you more. But I've never actually seen the one I am looking for." Harry said, apologetically.

"What, she owe you money or something?"

"Nothing like that. She's like me. Magical. I want to find her to help her and bring her to where she can be with her own kind, to learn what it means to be a witch."

Nick raised an eyebrow, or would, if he had eyebrows. His chair creaked alarmingly as he got up and began rummaging through piles of paperwork, muttering to himself while Ellie tried to guide his search.

"Ah ha. Here we are." He stated triumphantly. He slapped a rather bare looking manilla folder onto the desk. Harry reached forward and opened it, seeing a photo of a young red head, her hair a short tangled mess atop a mischievous face. Despite the hard edge to her eyes, there was a certain vulnerability to the crooked grin which split her face.

"There's not much here. Says here she was last at the Combat Zone… we've already been there." Harry muttered, somewhat despondently.

"Yeah, but at least I now have a face to go with the name. It gives me a place to start at least. I'll start asking around my regular informants, see what I can stir up. How can I contact you when I have something?"

"I'll check back in with you, say in a couple of weeks?"

"That should give me plenty of time. May have to hike out to Bunker Hill, the traders there see a lot in their travels, could be they spotted our lost lamb."

They shook on it, and Harry followed Piper out of the Valentine Detective Agency. The sun was just cresting over the horizon to the east, providing a stark reminder that they had spent the entire night on their adventure. A point that was punctuated by Piper's profound and jaw cracking yawn.

Harry smirked at the reporter, his jaw tightening as he resisted the urge to yawn himself.

"Come on, Potter. I got a comfy couch at the Publick that has your name on it. We can leave tonight after we've rested."

"Yeah, we've got a long way to travel. Some sleep would be brilliant."

Harry found himself deep in the arms of Morpheus within moments of his head hitting the pillow. A darkness fluttered at the edge of his awareness, like a nightmare without proper context. He slept, tossing and turning under the blanket of an intangible dread. As if something horrible was about to befall them.


	3. Chapter 2: Crawl out through the Fallout

**Chapter 6: Crawl out through the Fallout**

Disclaimer: Still don't own either, still not earning a penny.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, somewhere in the Boston ruins**

The gradual and yet inevitable collapse of his shielding charm was marked by the tinkling of breaking glass, the occasional round bypassing his scant cover to deplete his protective barrier.

Piper and Nat huddled behind him, peering through the cratered holes pockmarking the ancient concrete Jersey barrier at the source of their latest dilemma. Backstreet Apparel apparently housed a raider den, for only moments after spotting the old clothing store, they came under fire from a machine gun turret and a brace of excitable marauders. Harry acted quickly and dispatched the turret with some kind of blasting spell but got hit at least twice before he could raise the shield and huddle down behind the Jersey barrier.

Harry grimaced as Piper stabbed the needle of the stimpack into his leg, the sharp sound of the injection matched by his hiss of pain. He could keenly feel the foreign bullets lodged in his leg and arm, a trace of worry marking his sweaty face as he considered the lumps of lead he would be carrying around until they could get to Salem.

He grinned at Nat, trying to ease the clear distress on the young girl's face as he tried to come up with a plan that would see them live through this encounter.

There was a brief seminar during his Muggle Studies class that indicated that in a large scale conflict with the muggle world… wizards would lose. For all their wonder, wands were simply ill-suited to matching the destructive potential of some of the muggle weapons. Looking around at the clear evidence in favor of that argument, Harry began to despair as more voices joined the tumult and the volume of fire increased even more.

He chanced a peek over the concrete, hoping that his shield charm had enough life in it to keep him from losing his head. His frown deepened as he noted the raiders moving towards them, keeping behind barriers and moving under cover from their fellows. There had to have been at least six of them at this point, and it would only be a matter of seconds before the first of them reached their position.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for a reckless last stand when a bright beam of crimson light bisected the nearest raider, felling the screaming man with a mechanical 'sprang' type sound. Bewildered, the raiders paused in their headlong rush, giving the unknown savior enough time to line up another shot and send a second raider into the afterlife with a blast to their face.

With the second shot, the raiders now had his position, and split their fire between the new target and Harry's position. The lessened volume of fire encouraged him and he leapt up and sent a fiery blast at the wooden barrier used by a filthy woman, the force of it sending her flying back and into the river.

Piper joined in with fire from her 10mm pistol, the dull 'tack tack' punctuated by a loud curse from another raider as they fell back clutching their leg. Another searing blast of laser light sent the remaining raiders scrambling back for better cover. One of them raised a bottle with a flaming rag stuffed into it, cocking his arm back for a throw. Reacting quickly, Harry targeted the raider, 'Stupify!'

The raider dropped the Molotov cocktail at his feet, the bottle shattering and spreading flaming liquid all over himself and his partner. The other raider shrieked and dove into the river to extinguish the flames leaving his erstwhile companion to burn.

Harry grimaced despite himself, pity for the stunned man being immolated making his gorge rise. Thankfully, their savior sent a quick blast into the poor man's head, ending his agony.

Losing all heart for the fight, the last raider bolted for the front door of the storefront and slammed it shut behind him. They stayed still long enough to witness the two raiders claw their way out of the polluted waterway and stagger to the same doorway, their retches and heaves slowing their progress. Harry counted to thirty as the door slammed shut behind the sick raiders, only standing up to survey the area when he was sure that the raiders wouldn't return right away. He turned at the sound of footsteps, his face blank at the man walking towards them with an odd kind of laser musket pointed at the ground.

"Roger Wilson, once of the Commonwealth Minutemen, at your service." The man announced, by way of introduction.

"I'm Harry, out of Salem." He greeted, extending his hand.

Roger took it firmly, smiling at Nat and Piper as they joined them.

"I recognize you... you're that reporter right? Publick Occurences or somesuch?"

"See Nat? We're getting famous." Piper smiled, taking his offered hand.

"I think you mean infamous." Nat quipped.

"In any case, thanks for the help there. Thought we were pretty much done for."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for. Or was, before it all went to hell."

"Yeah, I thought the Minutemen were all gone." Piper noted, her tone clearly questioning. "Care to comment on the rumors of the Minutemen's fall?"

Piper and the bulk of the Commonwealth were not initially aware of the minutemen's apparent demise at Quincy until a few weeks prior when the sole survivor took her to Sanctuary. There she had the opportunity to speak to Preston Garvey and the circumstances surrounding the survivors of what he labelled 'The Quincy Massacre'. The story she published based on that interview sold out in an afternoon, and was met with a wide range of reactions. Some were nonchalant about the collapse of the citizen soldiers while others were distraught over the paradigm shift.

"If you're heading our way, we can walk and talk." Harry cut in, not eager to spend time in such close proximity to some very irked raiders.

Not having anything better to do, Roger joined them as they headed north to Salem. Along the way he related his story.

"You heard of Quincy I take it?" He asked.

At their nods, he continued, "After the death of General Becker, my CO took our group to Libertalia. It's a collection of boats and shipwrecks off the coast. For a while there, we kept up with the Minuteman mission, helping settlers in exchange for logistical support, namely food and caps."

"Sounds a bit mercenary." Piper muttered.

"Maybe so. But we only took what was offered. At least at first. We didn't get the call to help Quincy, and as far as it was from us, I can't say that we would have if we had gotten the word. Anyway, a couple of the boys took to raiding some caravans. Our supplies were running dangerously low and the situation was getting desperate. I don't know that it was desperate enough to stoop to raiding…"

He paused, looking around as they crossed over a partially raised bridge.

"Careful here, there is a group of raiders on that barge below."

They crept by in silence until they were certain they had put enough distance between themselves and any lookouts the raiders may have had. When no one started shooting at them, they relaxed and he continued his story.

"Wire, that was my CO, found out about what the boys did; he had them hung. But it wasn't too long before he came around to their way of thinking as caravans repeatedly stiffed us on escort runs. I remember one in particular, odd duck named Cricket, promised us fusion cells, food and a healthy amount of caps to see her past super mutant territory in the downtown area."

"The thing of it was, I think we were lucky. We ran into a super mutant hunting party, had to have been five or six of the ugly bastards. Between her regular guards and us, we managed to fight them off, though one of her boys and one of ours bought it. By the time we got to Bunker Hill, the bitch handed over a handful of caps and a small stack of Salisbury steak and called it even. We almost got into a shooting match right then. Kessler got involved and forced us to leave, though she wasn't too happy with Cricket either."

He sighed, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

"Wire changed after that. I guess he just wanted to make sure his people survived. I don't mean to defend him or my former friends, but it ain't like we set out to be raiders. Me and a couple of others couldn't stomach it though, took off on our own. He wished us well, he really did, and I haven't laid eyes on him since."

"So, where is the rest of your group?" Harry asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Dead. Principles are all well and good but they don't feed you. Guess we just weren't ruthless enough. We bled for people and were stiffed in return. Eventually, they just chewed us up and ground us down. I'm the last. I was heading to Diamond City, maybe see if they could use a gun hand when I saw you folks in a bit of a pinch. That's my story."

"You think there are other Minutemen out there? Maybe some who are keeping up the fight?" Harry asked, glancing at Roger. Though his eyes were hard, his voice carried with it a measure of the sympathy he felt for the lone man. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he were the last of his people.

"I hadn't heard of anyone. Except for that group from Quincy anyway. But I heard that they bought it in Lexington. Feral central down there."

"One survived." Piper murmured solemnly.

"Really? You met 'em?"

"I interviewed him for my story. 'The Last Minuteman.'" Piper proclaimed, her arms spread as if to encompass the title in the air. "His name's Preston Garvey."

"Hrmm. Don't know the name. But then, not like I knew everyone in the Minutemen. Still, it's good to hear that I ain't the last. Actually, it's really good." The weight he bore did seem lightened, as if the news did something to restore his faith, even if in some small way.

"He set up in Sanctuary hills with the survivors of Quincy. Maybe once we get back to Salem, we can head over there and you can meet him." Piper turned to Harry with a questioning tilt to her head.

"Sure. Once we get Nat settled there, we pay a visit to Sanctuary." Harry replied, gifting Piper with a lopsided grin.

* * *

 **POV: Susan Bones, just outside of Salem**

Susan huffed irritably at the errant lock of reddish brown hair which kept falling into her eyes. Vincent glanced over at her from his perch on the park bench and seeing nothing amiss, went back to his quiet scan of the horizon, idly puffing away on his cigarette.

Vincent was a muggle, handsome in a way, though perhaps a little too fond of hair grease. He affected a pompadour hairstyle, one he constantly fussed over with a pocket comb when he wasn't busy smoking or singing to himself. Often he did all three at once. He towered over her slight 5'2" frame at well over 6', his greaser jacket barely able to contain the impressive musculature he worked hard to maintain. He wore a boiled leather vambrace, pauldron and cuirass, festooned with pockets and ammo pouches. His heavy boots were likewise boiled leather, with tooled strips of metal to reinforce it. Despite being rather idle as Susan poked in the dirt, his hands were never far from his scoped combat rifle and his eyes constantly shifted and drank in every detail of their surroundings.

Susan shifted uncomfortably whenever his gaze fell on her, a blush brightening her cheeks at the unsubtle way his eyes roamed over the contours of her body and the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. She had changed a great deal since her early days at Hogwarts, though still short, she had lost her baby fat and become quite slender. Her dark eyes and red tinged hair seemed to gain more than its fair share of attention, something she had yet to get accustomed to.

It had been Hermione's idea to pair each of them with one of the more combat oriented muggle settlers that had come to live in Salem. Though met with some resistance from the wizards and witches, her logic was hard to deny. There was still so much about this world they were ignorant of, and magic seemed to have changed enough that such caution was warranted. Harry's own experience with apparating was proof enough, though Susan didn't need that minor disaster to deter her. She had accidentally splinched herself during her sixth year at Hogwarts and was not eager to repeat the experience.

Vincent started a song, something about crawling through radiation as Susan went back to her task. Neville had been obtaining good results with the few crop plants he had been able to cultivate, but as the population of Salem grew, there were increasing concerns that food shortages would become a real problem. In the old world, simple duplication charms would solve that issue, but now… it wasn't so simple. Duplication still worked, to some degree, but the more something was duplicated the more it seemed to become untenable.

They had made a vegetable stew the other night and tried duplicating it in order to have extra servings for the next day. The first few pots came out fine, though the second and third iterations seemed a little 'off'. By the fourth pot, the food was inedible and the fifth actually seemed to give off noxious fumes.

There was land just outside their walls, so Susan took it upon herself to test the soil and try out a few charms to cleanse it of the worst of its radiation and perhaps make more arable land available for crops. In the meantime, they may have to open up relationships with other settlements to trade for food.

Vincent had hauled a table and chair out her for her to use, setting up several test tubes and vials for her to contain the samples she was gathering. She stoppered the last vial, the grey dirt not inspiring a great deal of faith in her regarding its fertility. From her studies in herbology, she knew that soil had to have various characteristics to support various plants and fungi, organic composition, mineral composition, PH value, water, air and how much radioactive material was in it. She was no expert, but it confused her how the effects of bombs detonating over 200 years ago could still have the effect they did.

On a whim, she drew her wand and casted a simple cleansing charm on the soil. Normally, cleansing charms would be used on objects to remove soil. So using it directly on soil? The sample in the vial darkened slightly but she temporarily lost focus and had to shake her head to clear her vision. Strange that. She set her sample down and tried again on a different, larger vial, casting the cleansing charm again. A wave of vertigo swept through her, causing her to drop the vial. She grabbed the edge of the table to keep her balance, her eyes widening at the spatter of blood which appeared on its surface. Reaching a shaking hand to her face, she felt wetness beneath her nose. Lifting it to her face, she was shocked to see her fingertips wet with blood. She teetered and almost fell, and would have if Vincent hadn't suddenly appeared to catch her. The last thing she saw, was his face darkening with worry and his mouth moving without sound.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, on the road near Croup manor**

"That place looks kinda creepy." Nat remarked, as the four walked along the cratered road up the coast.

"Some kind of manor house. Might actually be worth checking out." Harry glanced sidelong at the suddenly hopeful expression on Nat's face. A little too hopeful.

"Later though, it's getting late and if we don't hurry, we won't make it to Salem before dark."

Fate seemed to have a sense of humor, at least where Potter was concerned. No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, a series of raw throaty rasps burst from the foliage immediately to their right, several misshapen beings lurching forward from the vicinity of the manor.

"Oh Christ." Roger moaned, his hands trembling as he hurriedly turned the crank on his laser musket.

"Get behind me Nat!" Piper shouted, simultaneously pulling at her younger sister and drawing her 10mm pistol.

Harry brandished his wand and sent the first few ghouls flying back with a hurriedly conjured gale force wind. It bought them precious seconds that Piper and Roger put to good use firing into the press of rotting faces.

"How dare you defile the sacred ones?!" A strange voice shouted.

Whipping his head around, Harry spotted a rather dilapidated looking man emerge from a house on the left. He wore threadbare robes and wielding a gun that looked like a small radar dish. The most disconcerting thing about him though, was the madness gleaming in his eyes.

The strange man, joined by two others of his kind, didn't bother to wait for a reply. He raised the strange weapon and sent a glob of green energy at them.

"Get down!" Harry shouted, as he tried to put up a shielding charm.

The energy slammed into him, though strangely didn't seem to have any force to it. A wave of dizzying nausea threatened to overtake him though, and all he could do was to slash the air with his wand and send a zigzagging line of dark energy slashing toward the three madmen.

Their cries of pain couldn't overcome the sudden roar in Harry's ears, his vision swimming as he fought to keep his dinner where it belonged. He blinked away tears in time to notice that the ghouls were almost on top of them again, and without thinking sent a 'confringo' curse at them.

The fiery blast eagerly immolated the 3 ferals, even as the force threw them back into the foliage from whence they arose. They thrashed madly, setting the bushes alight in their pained panic.

"Come on!" Roger's shout was indistinct, like hearing someone scream under water. He grabbed Harry's arm in an iron grip and pulled the stumbling wizard after him.

The four of them raced north, hoping that they could reach Salem before either the crazy people or the

* * *

 **POV: Susan Bones, Salem Medical Clinic**

The smell of candles and hair grease came first, followed by the murmurs of voices speaking in hushed tones. She blinked against the darkness and groped blindly above her, a warm hand clasping hers and pulling her into a sitting position. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, a single candle at the far end of the room the lone bulwark against the gloom. She twisted in discomfort at the slight pain in her abdomen, the extremely strong and urgent need to relieve herself almost propelling her off the bed. Her cheeks reddened as she realized that she was almost completely nude, with a bare shift scarcely reaching her upper thighs. Vincent sat on the bed with her and had helped her sit up, his eyes locked firmly on her as she blushed even more furiously.

An older woman, wearing a reddish brown coat and her greying hair pulled into a tight ponytail shooed Vincent aside and took his place on the bed. Vincent turned on one of the lamps, the illumination revealing one of the rooms in the Salem clinic. What was the woman's name? Susan fought through the fog and her overwhelming desire to use the bathroom in order to recall.

Doc Anderson! It came to her suddenly, her relief that her mind still functioned despite the fog almost palpable. It didn't do much for the pressing issue in her bladder though.

"I imagine you probably have to go." Doc Anderson tutted, not unkindly. "Here."

Susan was scandalized at the proffered bed pan, her eyes opening in barely controlled panic at the shadow of Vincent lurking in the small space and the metal pan being offered to her.

Seeming to recognize the source of her distress, Doc Anderson let the pan down and got up, "Come on Vincent, let's give her a moment of privacy. That Rad Away is about to make her bladder burst."

The door closed with a soft click before Susan threw off the thin sheets and made use of the bedpan, nearly groaning aloud at the relief. Her sense of relief faded at the sheer volume of liquid in the bedpan, to say nothing of its odd color and pungent smell. She was saved from further embarrassment when Doc Anderson re-entered the door after a light knock minus the imposing Vincent.

She smiled down at Susan, "I sent him away, he had been here pretty much since you were brought in and was about to pass out himself."

"How long have I been here?" Susan asked.

"Sixteen hours. Vincent brought you in, said you had passed out just outside of the walls. You were suffering from moderate radiation poisoning, dehydration and severe mineral deficiency."

Susan's eyes widened at the diagnosis, surprised at the strain her body had undergone with a few simple charms to cleanse the soil of its radiation.

A light tap on the door drew their attention just before it opened a crack, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, Mrs. Granger." The doctor answered amiably.

Hermione came in, closing the door softly behind her, worry lines etched deep in her face as she looked down on Susan with a wan smile.

"You gave us quite a scare… how are you?" Hermione asked, as Doc Anderson got up and allowed Hermione to take her place at Susan's side.

"More embarrassed than anything. Though I do feel a little peckish. Well… maybe more than a little." Susan clarified, just as her stomach rumbled loudly.

"I'll ask Vincent to bring you something. You missed out on a few meals. Doctor Anderson tells me that you were in pretty bad shape for a bit there. How did it happen? You were only out there for a couple of hours."

"I was trying modified cleansing charms on some soil samples I gathered. I did it twice but felt increasing distress every time."

"Vincent had the foresight to bring your samples back. Two of them do look markedly different from the others. I wish I had read more about herbology and horticulture…" Hermione remarked, her expression becoming wistful as she pondered her now lost precious libraries.

The original Salem settlement had several surviving tomes, though not to the extent that any of them were used to in Hogwarts.

Susan suddenly realized something, "You know, I believe that Ilvermorny is pretty close. Maybe their library is intact? We could certainly use anything that survived there."

Hermione thought it over, "Some of the settlers described the area to us; if I remember correctly, Ilvermorny is located on the tallest mountain in the Commonwealth. If that's true, that puts it squarely in what the muggles call the Glowing Sea."

Susan was confused, "A sea?"

"Of radiation," Hermione clarified, "apparently, it's where the majority of the bombs struck. They say it is filled with horribly mutated creatures and that the radiation is still strong enough to kill a person in minutes."

"That must be where all those terrible radiation storms blow in from." Susan added, despondently.

Hermione reached out and grasped the young woman's hands, "We'll figure this out yet. At the very least, maybe Sir Nicholas or Lady Ravenclaw can take a look for us."

They sat in companionable silence for a time, though Hermione couldn't stop gnawing her lip in worry at how limited their magic seemed to be. It was almost as if the earth itself resisted it. Apparating was out, duplication barely worked and repair charms could only do so much. They needed to find a way around their shortcomings. If only Harry was back.

* * *

 **POV: Daphne Greengrass, Salem settlement**

Daphne sat on a park bench, idly smiling at the passing children as they used their seemingly inexhaustible energy to run everywhere they went. Her mood and her expression darkened as soon as they passed, as the sobering truth haunted her again. People were doomed.

Of the nearly forty people that now called Salem home, three of them were children. She thought little of it at first until a conversation with Fingers made a sense of dread rise up from deep in her gut. The ex-raider had been so nonchalant about it, her words coming out in between bites of a tarberry tart, occasionally nodding at the gushing praise her baking earned.

 _A raider who knew how to bake…_

Fingers told her that few people ever managed to have children. Her former mates, a large group of raiders that hung out at a car manufacturing plant, never had a single case of pregnancy, despite the rampant bouts of sex and alcohol which marked their time in between murdering and thieving. The woman tried counting out the number of lovers she had had, but gave up when she ran out of fingers.

"Many women don't even bleed once a month." She had muttered near the end of their conversation, the apparent doom of her species not phasing the young woman all that much.

She looked up as the door to the clinic opened, a harried looking Hermione coming out and squinting against the mid-morning sun.

"How is Susan?" She asked, as Hermione came over to join her.

"Better. Doc Anderson got the radiation flushed out and is replenishing her minerals and electrolytes. She wants to keep her there for another full day at least while she regains her strength. I think Vincent is showing is hand at how much he is fussing over her."

"Vincent is a little old for her isn't he? Not to mention the size difference. She'd have to get a step stool to snog him."

Hermione snorted, the rare moment of mirth actually releasing some of the tension of the last few days. Harry's absence worried her more than she let on. She regretted the arguments she had with him, but he had always been somewhat foolhardy and reckless and their new paradigm hadn't changed that aspect of his personality one whit.

"I think you got that backwards, considering we're all over 200 years old." Hermione managed.

"Oh, right." Daphne replied off-handedly.

"In any case, we need to take a look at those soil samples she was working on. We need to find out why she got so ill."

Within minutes, they joined George and Lilith in the church's basement, the same table Susan had used set up with the 'cleansed' samples next to the others she had gathered. They immediately noticed the difference in color between them, the charmed samples clearly darker in color than the wan grey silt that the other samples were.

"Well, that's something." George muttered, holding up and peering intently at the cleansed sample. He produced a computer type device, a wrist mounted computer of some sort with a cracked screen.

"One of the muggles brought this in, called it a pip-boy. It's supposed to do quite a lot, but this one is broken. All he managed to fix on it so far is the radiation detector." He pointed out a dial on the device, the needle currently hovering just over the zero.

He waved it fairly close to the cleansed sample and shook it when the 'pip-boy' failed to react. He shrugged and waved it over the unaltered sample, grunting in mild surprise when the device began to emit a crackling noise and the needle began to waver between two and four rads.

"Looks like Susan managed to clean the radiation from the samples."

Lilith seemed to ponder this, and after a moment's thought, reached for the other cleansed sample.

"I wonder…" She murmured, as she pulled her wand.

Hermione started, opening and closing her mouth as if debating herself as to whether she should stop Lilith or not. Her curiosity was piqued when Lilith used Scarpin's revelaspell on the soil. This charm was used to identify the ingredients of a given potion… perhaps it would work to tell her what was in the soil.

"Humus, silt, sand, clay, water." Lilith rattled off.

"No pollutants? No radiation?" Hermione asked.

Lilith shrugged in response, "None that the spell could detect. Though to be fair, it wasn't made to detect radiation. But it would have identified any other chemicals or pollutants if they were present."

"Looks as though Susan succeeded. But the question is, why did she become ill?"

"Only one way to find out." George declared.

"Don't you dare!" Hermione shouted, though it was already too late, as George casted the cleansing charm on an unaltered soil sample.

"I feel a little rough." George whispered, his face pale.

Anything Hermione was about to say was interrupted by the sound of George vomiting violently, his entire body shuddering and driving him to his knees.

"Get the doctor! Hurry!"

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, just north of Kingsport Lighthouse**

"I think I may lose my dinner after all." Harry gasped, still in Roger's unrelenting grip.

"I don't see any pursuit, we might be in the clear." Roger stated, his eyes scanning the road behind them.

"Oh good." Harry breathed, just before collapsing.

"Harry!" Piper cried, kneeling down next to the stricken wizard.

"I'll be alright, just need a moment."

"Um, you may not have a moment Harry." Roger warned.

Harry looked up and frowned at the raggedy looking people approaching from the crater that he had spotted along the coast during an earlier foray.

"Oh bugger."

"Greetings travelers! Do you come to bask in the glow of Atom's radiance?" One of them asked, his friendly tone edged with steel.

"Stay back." Harry warned, pointing his wand at the interlopers as he struggled to his feet.

The man's face darkened with a cruel sneer, "You are Heretics to deny Atom's glory!"

"Deny this!" Harry shouted, conjuring a curtain of wild billowing flames. He spun his wand around him, forming a shield of flames which he hoped would dissuade the mad radiation worshippers.

The four of them continued north, Harry's fiery shield eventually falling as his strength left him. Looking over his shoulder, he could spy the group of Children standing on the road staring at them… no at HIM.

"We need to hurry," he gasped, "I think we may have visitors soon."

* * *

 **POV: Neville Longbottom, Salem settlement**

"It's not much to look at, but it's somewhat isolated and the people there seem like a good lot."

Neville was regaling George, Luna and Lilith with the tale of his first trip outside of Salem in between mouthfuls of vegetable stew. It was Lilith's turn to cook that night and she used her talent with potions to good effect in making a delicious stew. Unfortunately, it had used up the last of his carrots and corn to make it.

"I know it's pretty far to get them to come here, but maybe we can set up some kind of trade. We can help get them straightened out and they could help us with our crops problem. At least until I can work out a way to increase our yield."

"You should probably talk that over with Hermione until Harry gets back." Luna murmured, "Though I'm sure they'll agree, it's always nice to make new friends after all."

They perked up at some commotion going on outside, with people moving towards the gate with a curiosity lending their step a spring.

"Speak of the devil, I think that may be him now." George announced, standing and looking out through the windows of the diner towards the people streaming towards the gate. "Or one of those traders have come back."

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed. She was excited at the prospect of one of their trading groups coming back, hoping one of them may have found an item on her esoteric list of wants.

The friends abandoned their food and headed out with the crowd, the small crowd parting at their approach.

"It's good to see you on your feet again, young Mr. Weasley." A voice called out.

"Thanks, Sir Nicholas. I do feel better."

They both turned to the gates, which opened to reveal a somewhat haggard Harry leaning against Hermione. Three people trailed after them, a young woman, a man dressed like he was going to a colonial battle re-enactment and a ten maybe eleven year old girl.

"Bloody hell Harry! You look like crap!" A random voice called out. Harry grinned in response, which immediately turned to a grimace as some injury or another made itself known. Hermione chided him quietly and continued to lead him inside, George noted that his clothes were blood stained.

At some point in their journey back, the bullets still lodged in Harry's arm and leg did some damage and made the last few miles nearly unbearably painful. Thankfully, Hermione was on the lookout for his return and had descended on him like an avenging angel. Her ire only dissipated somewhat when she saw the state he was in.

"Hold on, Hermione. I have news."

"That can wait Harry, your hu…"

"No it can't!" He interrupted with more vigor than he felt.

"Listen, everyone."

The murmurs died down and all eyes were on Harry.

"We have to prepare. We're about to be attacked."

* * *

 **POV: Morgan Le Fay, somewhere to the west of the Glowing Sea**

Vomit stained the front of her dress and oozed hot and sticky down the front of her chest and into her cleavage. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and confusion at the unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation of being sick. Centuries of life had taught her a great deal, but this sensation was somewhat new to her.

Morgan Le Fay moaned as she crouched on her hands and knees, heedless of the dirt and grime staining her gold brocaded green dress. She managed to stymie her misery for a moment, enough to focus her power inward and delve into the reason for her ailment.

She was confused and intrigued by what she found. The act of apparating from her prison to the surface had flooded her system with a large amount of deadly particles, tiny motes of material that was busily destroying her cells at the tiniest level, attempting to rewrite her very essence. A low growl issued from her throat as her power surged and cleansed the abhorrent material from her body.

Overcome by the sudden need to visit the jakes, she cast her eyes around and for the first time, drank in the sight of the world above. For the second time in as many seconds, she was perplexed. The town she was interred under was a ruin, dead plants leaning forlornly from the cracks in the streets. Detritus wafted through the dust choked ruin while the wind moaned forlornly.

Shock permeated her body as she cast her gaze in every direction, the same devastation meeting her astonished eyes everywhere she looked. When she turned to the south, she was unpleasantly surprised to see a coterie of filthy peasants leering at her, bits of rusted metal decorating their grime coated bodies in a crude pantomime of armor. Their fists clenched strange weapons, like those gunpowder weapons the muggles used.

"Well, looka here! We got us a prime example of grade A meat here boys!" One of the men leered, lust clearly writ upon his face as saliva dribbled from his slack lips.

Her distaste must have been clear, for his expression darkened, "She don't look too friendly, I don't think that pretty little cunt of hers is going to be slick for us boys. We'll have to improvise."

Morgan didn't care for the man's lascivious attitude nor his crude peasant speech. It didn't matter that centuries had passed, she was a lady and expected to be addressed as such.

"You need to take a step back and carefully consider your next actions. I will ask you some questions and being the helpful gentlemen that you are, you will answer me politely. I will thank you for your time and we will each go our separate ways."

Her statement was met with hearty guffaws, the filthy men even going so far as to mock her by bowing to each other, tears of laughter coursing clean lines down their dirty cheeks.

The lead ruffian, the one who spoke earlier, paused his raucous laughter long enough to pick something from his beard before inspecting it briefly, crushing it between his fingers and flicking it away. He fixed her with blood red eyes and leered again, openly licking his lips and revealing several rotten teeth.

"Ah, lass. The only thing I expect to be coming out of your mouth are screams as my boys and I take turns on that luscious body of yours. I don't think I've ever seen a woman so pale and clean, minus the mess you made on your tits there. Now why don't you take that fancy dr…."

She had heard enough and with an indignant shout, sent a wall of force at the man with a wave of her hand. The rippling wall of compressed air struck him midsentence and slammed him backwards with bone crushing force. The others dodged out of the way as he continued flying back, the wall pushing him inexorably towards one of the ruins surrounding them.

He hit the wall hard enough to make dust and plaster rain down and cracks to appear in the aging brick veneer. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to scream as the unforgiving force pressed him against the unyielding wall. With an explosion of blood, his body failed and the wave of force pressed up against the wall, the liquefied remains of the man squirting out along its edges in a macabre spray.

"Fucking bitch!"

The men fired at her with their crude weapons, the pop pop pop of the rounds being fired punctuated by their enraged cries. Their aim was terrible, but nonetheless, Morgan conjured a charm she had used in ages past to deflect arrows and found it just as effective against their weapons. Her power uncoiled within her as if a predator coming awake after a long sleep, its eagerness surging forth and surprising even her.

Two of the men were flung far into the air and allowed to fall back to earth, their bodies shattering on the debris choked ground. A bead of fiery force flew from her flicked hand, impacting on another peasant and blowing him apart in a disgusting crimson rain. The final man, some sense finally making its way into his thick skull, realized the futility of his actions and moved to run.

He moaned in dismay as he found his legs and arms locked and unable to move. His eyes darted about in fear as the witch turned him around and brought him flying towards her with a simple gesture. He hovered in front of the terrifying woman, her eyes ablaze and dark tresses flying about her head as if stirred by a hurricane. She leaned in close, her dainty nose turning up at the smell coming off the man's body, he smelled worse than the vomit that stained her dress. Speaking of which, with a mere thought, she cleansed herself, the material sloughing off of her to pool on the ground. She turned her attention back on the struggling peasant and smiled as an idea came to her.

"Imperio."

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Salem settlement**

"I'm trying very hard to not be angry with you." Hermione lectured, an errant lock of hair falling down as she fussed over Harry, despite the number of times she tucked it back behind her ear.

"Hermione, I know. I promised and I did my best, really. But now's not the time. We really are about to be attacked."

"Who? Why?"

"I… really don't know. We were making our way up the coast and were just hours away. I'd led us around that crater on the coast with those mad cultists, those Children of Atom."

Harry paused to grunt in pain, Hermione noticed that he was sweating despite how cool it was now that the sun was going down. Laying the back of her hand on his forehead, she winced as she felt how hot he was.

"Harry! You're burning up!"

"Oh yeah, I got hit with one of their radiation guns."

"WHAT?!"

"They're small, shooting out a green hued blast of radiation..."

"Not that! When were you going to mention that you had radiation sickness?"

"Well, to be fair, you do keep interrupting me."

Her face was set in stony silence, her lips pressed in a thin line in a look that communicated to Harry that he had very nearly reached the limits of Hermione's patience.

Wafting through like a butterfly on a zephyr, Luna suddenly interposed herself, holding a bag of rad-away.

"There, there Harry. This will fix you up." She breathed, gracing both of them with a small smile.

Hermione deflated as she watched Luna skillfully push the needle in Harry's arm, she looked up at a young woman standing nearby chewing her lip nervously, a ten or eleven year old girl clutching her hand for dear life.

"I'm sorry," Hermione began, standing up, "Are you two alright?"

Her easy smile and kind words had a visible effect on the two, breaking the ice and leading to a hasty set of introductions.

Harry broke up the little circle, sitting up despite Hermione's glare and finally noticed that practically everyone in Salem had formed a circle around him.

"Everybody listen," Harry ignored how redundant he was being, "there is a group of people, from the Children of Atom. I don't really know why, but I don't think they're coming over to borrow pumpkin juice. We need to get ready."

"You heard the man!" Barney suddenly cut in, "Salem Militia! Man the walls!"

At his command, a good dozen men and women grabbed their weapons and climbed up on walkways anchored to the inside of the defensive wall. Barney grinned at the group around Harry and made off to join them, hollering the whole way.

"Well, I guess we should get ready too."

"You aren't going anywhere." Hermione insisted.

"I can't just sit here! We're in the street!" Harry fought back, struggling to his feet while Luna tried to keep the Rad-away bag elevated above his left arm.

"Periculum!" He shouted, raising his wand skyward.

At his command, red flares shot up into the sky, alerting anyone in the settlement that wasn't already aware, that there was danger.

In minutes, the majority of the population of Salem was as prepared as they could be. Neville, Luna, Piper, Nat and a couple of the older settlers guarded the children who huddled on the bottom floor of the clinic with Susan Bones and Doc Anderson. If anyone was wounded during the attack, Lilith and George would grab them and take them to the clinic to get patched up. The rest of them, Daphne, Barney, Harry and Hermione with the dozen members of the Salem Militia were standing guard behind the walls. Harry had asked Sir Nicholas and Lady Helena to patrol the other sections of the walls in case anything or anyone thought to get in some other way.

The sun was a fat molten bulge on the horizon by the time the Children of Atom showed up. They were a particularly ragged looking lot, dressed in little more than rags with corianders hanging from their robes like some kind of armor. They were chanting something about 'embracing the Glow' as they approached, their fanaticism scaring the collected people of Salem more than if they were an equal sized group of raiders.

One of them shrieked as he walked ahead of the rest, calling attention to himself as he gesticulated wildly at the walls.

"Bring forth the wayward child of Atom! We must bless he that has been touched by the Glow!"

He repeated his demands as everyone atop the walls looked at one another in confusion. Harry leaned over the walls and adjusted his glasses before shouting back in reply.

"We don't have anyone here like that. Now get on and no one has to get hurt!"

"THERE HE IS! IMBUED WITH THE RADIANCE OF THE GLOW! RESPLENDENT WITH THE GIFT AND WORTHY OF OUR MESSIAH OF ATOM!"

Harry was taken aback, what in the world was he on about?!

The preacher's voice took on a dangerous edge, "If you will not come, then we will take you."

"I'd like to see you try!"

The Children of Atom didn't need to be told twice, and with a ragged roar, surged forward in a mob.

And became the first casualties of George Weasley's genius.

The first to run afoul of a George classic stumbled in the midst of an explosion of color that erupted at his feet, spraying a riot of rainbow colors over the hapless man. He coughed and sputtered, waving away the errant powdery substance when his nearest companions suddenly changed their charge and tackled him to the ground, planting amorous kisses over the confused cultist.

Bypassing the impromptu lovebirds, a pair of Children took hold of their nuka grenades and prepared to throw them when a noxious green liquid sprayed up at them from the ground. They literally turned green themselves and began to sick up all over the ground, falling to their knees in nauseated misery.

On the other side of the mob, three men found that their running feet no longer contacted the ground, their bodies ballooning up and slowly floating up and away from the battle.

Harry cocked an eyebrow and glanced at a grinning George.

"I always did like that story about the time you blew up your aunt!"

This was followed by a massive cloud of stinging gnats that swarmed over the next four children in line, making them drop their weapons in panic and sending them running in the opposite direction from the Salem wall.

By the suddenly sullen expression on George's face at the remaining cultist's dogged insistence, Harry could tell that he was out of surprises. He yelled in warning as the first nuka grenades sailed over the walls and exploded in brilliant flame behind them.

Thinking quickly, Luna brandished her wand and caught a few of the grenades in mid-air, flicking her wrist dramatically, she sent them sailing back over the wall and grinned happily at the dismayed shouts that erupted from the Children of Atom as their own grenades exploded in their midst.

Barney tapped the buttons on the terminal controlling the turrets and after a few chirps, the machines acknowledged their targeting instructions and began to rain light machine gun fire into the mass below. Harry stuck his head over the wall and quickly stunned a woman before she could throw a grenade, the device landing at her feet but thankfully not exploding.

Several of the incendiary devices exploded at the gates themselves, but thanks to the strengthening charms cast on them by Hermione, they held without so much as a scratch. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the turrets, as two of them were already smoking ruins.

Green globs flew up at the defenders at the wall as they attempted to fire down at the press below. The wall was only ten feet tall, so the children would not be hard pressed to get over it as they only had to boost one another up to gain access. Harry swept his section of the wall with a mighty blast of wind, knocking a trio of cultists who had that very idea off their feet.

He winced at the loud thud of a body rolling off his side of the wall and looked down in horror at Vincent's body lying motionless at the bottom. Thankfully, Neville was on the spot and quickly levitated the stricken man and rushed him to the clinic.

Looking along the walls, Harry began to despair as he noted fully half of the defenders were already missing, casualties of this senseless conflict. It was small consolation that the Children were much worse off, with only a dozen of the initial forty remaining.

The preacher must have realized it to, for he called his people back and glared up at Harry as they streamed past him, carrying their incapacitated fellows.

"THIS IS NOT THE END! YOU CANNOT DENY THE BLESSINGS OF THE GLOW! ATOM WILLS IT!"

With that, and some fist shaking for good measure, the madman turned and followed his people back to their crater.

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan, Old North Bridge**

Not for the first time, Jonathan wondered if he had made a mistake. The dark skinned fellow in minuteman regalia was both terse and nervous, a bad combination for a man with a weapon pointed at your back. He tried to calm himself as he heard the man approach him across the bridge, his arms held far enough away from his body to communicate clearly that he wasn't going for any of his weapons.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The man growled.

"My name's Jon. I'm just helping some people out, looking for a good place for them to settle. Thought this corner of the 'Wealth was a good spot."

"You have people with you? Where are they?"

Jon could sense the rising tension rolling off the man, as if the he expected the group to pop out any moment.

"I had them wait at the Red Rocket station down the road. There's four of them, two of 'em are kids."

"Alright, call them over. No surprises, I got backup."

Jon risked lowering one of his arms, bringing his fingers to his lips and whistling the agreed upon signal. At a nudge from the minuteman, he raised his arm again and waited.

A few tense minutes later, the group he was escorting came up the road, pausing for a moment and looking at each other when they spotted the minuteman pointing a laser musket at their escort's back.

Jon heard the minuteman step slightly to the side to get a good look at the group.

A young blonde woman clutched her two children, both no more than ten while a man who appeared to be the mother's father stood in front of them. The grizzled man was missing his left arm below the elbow and had so many scars it was a wonder how he survived all the wounds that they portended.

"That's old man Richard Frost," The older man bristled a little at the introduction, "his daughter Eva and her children Michael and Sophia. They were just folks looking for a place after their home was overrun by super mutants. I came across them in the aftermath still being pursued near Malden. We managed to take down the muties chasing them and I offered to help them find a place to settle."

"And what are you getting out of this, Jon?" The minuteman asked, his tone softening slightly at the sight of the beleaguered family.

"Getting out of this? They aren't paying me or anything if that's what you are getting at. It was the right thing to do, so I did it."

"Really? Sorry, most people these days are just out for themselves. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen."

"Can I put my hands down now Preston?"

"Sure. Welcome to Sanctuary."

The family breathed a sigh of relief as Jon put his hands down and turned to face Preston. He smiled and offered his hand, which the minuteman took and gave him a firm and welcoming shake.

"It'll be nice to have more folks here. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others."

The walk over the bridge and into Sanctuary was amiable, with the children erupting in questions for the Minuteman.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Can I have your hat?'

"Why is your gun sparkling?"

"Do you have any gumdrops?"

"Children! Behave please." Their mother pleaded, throwing Garvey an apologetic look.

Preston laughed, "It's alright ma'am. It's nice to see kids again."

Jun came down from the guard tower and lowered his double-barreled shotgun, Marcy joined him, her omnipresent scowl softening at the sight of the precocious youngsters at Preston's feet.

The family joined the residents of Sanctuary for a communal meal, their eyes wide in wonder at the nearly pristine house situated in the middle of the ruins that dotted the rest of the island. The children took an instant shine to Mama Murphy, who regaled them with tales of her youth, in particular a battle with a fearsome deathclaw. Marcy and Jun served out portions of a hearty radstag stew, the meat fresh from a lone creature that Preston spotted across the river during his patrols.

The food was excellent and the company agreeable, and for the first time in weeks, the Frosts felt at ease. Jon and Preston spoke long into the night, sharing their stories.

"You did a hell of a thing getting these people all the way here from Quincy."

Preston waved away his praise, "It wasn't just me, and we lost more coming here than we started with. I don't deserve any thanks."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You pulled a victory from the worst the wasteland could throw at you. These people wouldn't be here if not for you." Jon pressed.

"I could say the same for you."

"I guess we're just two of a kind." Jon smiled.

Though cramped, everyone stayed in the one fixed up house that night, with plans to refurbish the house across from it, the one which previously belonged to Nora and Nate. Codsworth was still hovering by the long dead plants along the front of the house, using an ancient looking rag to wipe away grime from the outer walls.

Jonathan walked over after dinner to inspect the house, pausing to take a look at the Mr. Handy.

It whirred and turned to face him, the irises on its eye pods opening wide, a gesture that on a human would have indicated surprise.

"Oh my word! Mr. Nate! Is it really you?"

"No, I'm sorry. My name is Jonathan."

At this, the robot butler visibly sagged as if disheartened, "My apologies Mr. Jonathan. You look so much like my old master."

"Oh it's alright. Is this your master's home then?"

"Oh yes, wonderful family. I do so miss them so! Mrs. Nora had gone off to look for young Shaun. She seemed different, but what with all she had gone through, one could hardly blame her."

"I see. Do you think they would mind if we used their house to house another family? They have young children as well. Twins in fact."

"Oh! I'm sure that they'd be pleased to host guests! They were that kind of family, let me tell you! I'm afraid it's not in a fit state though, especially for children. It's been very hard keeping up with the cleaning over the centuries!"

"That's quite alright, Codsworth is it?"

"Oh where are my manners!? Yes, Mr. Jonathan, I name is Codsworth, the pride of General Dynamics!"

Jon inspected Codsworth with a critical eye, "Yeah, you seem to have weathered the years quite well. Even your programming doesn't seem to have much corruption."

The butler seemed to beam with pride and bobbed up and down as if to bow.

"I aim to please!"

"In that case, let's take a look at what needs to be done to get this house ready for the Frosts."

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Salem Settlement, the morning after the attack**

Hermione reached over and gently shut Harry's gaping mouth, the shock at the scene in front of him actually stealing his senses for a moment. For their part, George and an older gentleman were all smiles as they proudly displayed their project.

The 'owl' hooted and looked around at the quartet, its polished silvery wings reflecting sunlight in a dazzling display. It ticked and whirred as it adjusted its position on George's arm, bobbing its head almost comically as if preening under the attention.

"What… is it?" Harry finally managed.

George puffed himself up, "I was toying with a Giddyup Buttercup, a robot toy of sorts, and this helpful chap, "he clasped a hand on the older man's shoulder, "pipes in and tells me that he knows how they work. In fact, Mr. William here happens to be absolutely brilliant when it comes to things like this. We salvaged as many parts as we could and built a robotic owl to carry messages for us."

"It's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, setting his arm forward and grinning in delight when the owl hopped over from George's arm to his. It cooed as he stroked its soft metal feathers, marveling at how lifelike it was despite being made mostly of metal and plastic.

"We've only tested it on short flights so far." Mr. William added, "Really just a quick circuit around the workshop. But it flies well, just need to make some adjustments to its ability to sense and adjust to obstacles."

"Yeah, it's a bit like Errol in that way, but to be fair to the old bird, he had trouble just from being so ancient… for an owl."

"Neville is talking about going back to that settlement, Sanctuary. I think a good test would be to send the owl there just ahead of Neville's group. That way, if anything goes wrong, they'll be on hand to scoop him up."

"Sounds good." George smiled.

"I'll get on those adjustments." Mr. William added, whistling for the owl who happily hopped up onto the old man's shoulder.

As the pair of inventors moved off, chatting away excitedly, Harry's own grin faded as he turned back to Hermione.

"I wish all the news today was cheery like that."

Hermione knew what Harry was referring to, "We'll have the funeral for Bob and Mary this afternoon. You should say a few words. They were very brave on the wall, Barney has no shortage of good things to say about them."

"Of course. Speaking of Barney, how's he coming on repairing those turrets?"

"Lilith is helping him, but for some reason, a simple reparo doesn't quite fix them completely, so Barney has to dig into each one to see what didn't get fixed right. She's going to try some more runes to harden their exterior shells, those runes she used to replenish their ammo actually worked pretty well."

"We could use more." Harry mused.

"When we try duplicating an entire turret, it doesn't work at all. Barney says that some of the finer components, gears and circuits, break or burn up when they turn them on. They may just be too delicate and complicated to duplicate the entire thing. Maybe if we only tried to duplicate the parts individually then assemble them afterwards?"

"It's worth a go."

"Neville talked about a mechanic at that settlement he visited. Sturges I think his name was? He had actually built a couple of turrets out of scrap. If he made us a template, we could use the scrap from that yard he flew over and make as many as we need."

"Maybe I should go meet with them."

Hermione frowned at him, "Maybe you need to get some rest. You still haven't recovered from your trip."

Harry had to concede the point, Dr. Anderson had pulled the bullets out and flushed the remaining radiation from his system, but he was feeling fatigued and in no fit state to go flying around anywhere.

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his arm, "You have to trust that other people can do things too, Harry. You don't have to do it all yourself."

His face screwed up incredulously, "Hello Pot! I'm Kettle!"

Hermione actually chuckled softly, "I know, I know."

"Speaking of which, we have to raise our wall. Two Hermione's tall didn't stop them from tossing grenades inside."

Harry paused, not wanting to say more, as it was a grenade that had detonated inside the walls that had killed Bob and Mary. He didn't want Hermione to feel responsible for that, because if it hadn't been for her wall, none of them may have survived.

Hermione went quiet and Harry regretted bringing it up.

"You're right," She said suddenly, "but there isn't enough stone nearby to use. We made it as tall as we could with what was close by."

He smiled in sympathy at the war of emotion that darkened her features.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"It's fine." She said too quickly, "It's a problem we have to fix."

Harry thought for a moment, gnawing on his lip as he considered. He did know a place with plenty of good stone, but…

"You're thinking something. What is it?"

Damn. Hermione knew him too well.

"There is a place, but its bad news. I'd rather range further out to find what we need."

"What?" She pressed.

"There is a quarry not far from here, a few minutes by broom really. Sir Nicholas and I spotted it when we first checked out the surrounding area."

"But?"

"It's swarming with raiders… and there's a chindi there."

"A chindi!"

"Yeah, I think we may be better off looking elsewhere."

"We'll have to address it at some point. Not to mention having an army of raiders less than a day's march from here… once they hear about us, they'll be on our doorstep."

"I know. But what can we do?"

"We need allies."

* * *

A/N: The fist 2K words of Chapter 3 will be the remnants of the previously posted story that didn't fit in Chapter 2. The rest of the 8K or so will be new content. Stand by and thanks for your patience. If you have any. If not then bleep you. JK.


	4. Chapter 3: He's a Demon, He's a Devil

**Chapter 3: He's a Demon, He's a Devil, He's a Doll – Betty Hutton**

 _DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fallout or Potter. At all. Otherwise I wouldn't have to work so much and could spend more time writing._

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Above Salem**

Her scream was long and loud, redolent with youthful energy and excitement as the wind tousled her hair fiercely and made her eyes water.

Harry pushed the broom to its limits as Nat held on with one arm, the other raised into the air to feel the air as it rushed over them. He grinned back at her as he took her on loops above Salem, banking so hard that they could look to their left and see the ground whizzing by.

Settlers going about their day looked up at the hoots and yells, smirking at the duo as they put on a little show above them.

Harry leaned to the right, Nat naturally following suit, as they turned and headed south. He gives the crater a wide berth, not chancing any further contact with those fanatics for the time being. He looped a tight spiral around the lighthouse, gasping as they reached the top and saw that the glow coming from its apex seemed to come from a terribly irradiated ghoul.

Shaking the image of it pressing its face against the glass, Harry turned the broom back over the crashing waves and surged north, going low enough to get their legs wet from the ocean spray.

Nat squealed in delight and reached down to dip her fingers in the water, withdrawing it quickly from the sting of hitting the water at high speed. Harry looked back and though she nursed her fingers, her smile wasn't abated in the slightest. Grinning at her, he climbed almost vertically for several hundred feet and hovered for the barest moment before diving back down at incredible speed.

Nat opened her mouth to scream in delight but found that the air muffled her as it forced its way into her mouth. Harry pulled up at the last moment and whirled around some kind of pre-war industrial plant. Looking down, they saw several people shooting at each other, one side composed of men and women in ragged metal armor… raiders most likely, and the other with… mannequins?

He felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath from Nat and her arms tightened around his waist.

"Synths!" She shouted into his ear, over the roaring wind.

So that's what they looked like, he pondered as he took another look. The raiders were being systematically wiped out by bursts of blue laser fire from the methodical synthetic soldiers. He felt a wave of concern at the implications. The plant wasn't that far from Salem and he had no idea of what the motivation or capabilities of these synthetic men or their Institute masters. He should probably check in with Nick Valentine, he can maybe get some information about Cait and find out everything he knows about the Institute.

A single blue laser split the sky in front of them just as Harry decided that they had lingered long enough. He wondered for a moment if he shouldn't go down there and take them out, having them report on a man flying on a broom would be bad. He looked back at Nat, no… he couldn't expose her to danger like that. He sighed as he realized he would have to cut this joy ride short… he had some work to do.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Salem Settlement, later that day**

"Do we have to stop?" Nat complained, clearly unhappy with her joyride being cut short.

"Afraid so, Natalie. I promised your sister I'd have you back shortly and there are some things I have to do."

"Alright. Can we do it again soon?" Her face was the very picture of youthful hope.

"Absolutely!" Her smile was like sunlight, brightening his mood against the dark thoughts that pervaded it. He watched her head back to the Publick Occurrence before taking off on his broom, heading to the south again.

He didn't have to wait long, hovering over the ramshackle settlement, before the Children of Atom noticed him. He heard the stirring murmurs and awed voices which slowly increased in volume and emotion until he was inundated by cries of reverence. It made him feel almost sick.

"He has come! The Messiah comes to us! Witness now the glory of Atom!"

"I'm not here to join you!" Harry roared down at them, magically amplifying his voice. Several of the Children actually fell to their knees at the powerful voice projecting at them.

"You will!" The crazed leader screamed, emerging from under a metal stanchion, "We will guide you on the proper path! Don't you see? The power you wield is Atom's gift to you! You must acquiesce to our wisdom! Atom wills it!"

"I'm not. You're a bunch of nutters if you think I'm going to leave my friends to hang out with a bunch of fanatics."

"Ah yes! The tendrils of the flesh have enthralled you, Messiah! Let us make your decision easier."

At his signal, the Children pulled the curtains off of several cages, the wrought metal boxes unnoticed by him before. Each of them contained a snarling menagerie of feral ghouls, emaciated limbs reaching through the bars to claw at empty air.

"These failed tools of Atom's beneficence will serve in the Great Crusade to free you from the shackles of sentiment! We will unleash the tide of radiation on your beloved friends! Unless you come down NOW!"

Harry's face was stone, unfeeling and unmoving.

"Not going to happen." He murmured, too quietly for the Children to hear.

He drew within himself, felt the raw core of his power and let it uncoil. His heart beat faster as the storm built within him, his limbs trembling and his lips shaking as he let it build up within him. He cast his gaze out onto the ocean, its sedate tides rolled gently in contrast to the tremendous power in them. He pushed at the water, feeling the strain as his magic answered his call and forced millions of gallons of water back from the shore.

The Children muttered, confused as their Messiah seemingly convulsed atop his broom. One of them cried out, point at the receding ocean. The others rushed to look and were awestruck at the power and wonder displayed to them. Even these believers could scarcely come to terms with the raw elemental forces being displayed. Their leader, crazed beyond care, capered with glee at the manifest glory of his absolute belief.

Harry gasped and choked as he released the power and realized that he had not breathed in several minutes, his lips having turned blue and his limbs cold and waxy. He drank in great gulps of air as he flew up higher, in case the fanatics realized their doom and fired up at him in spite.

No. They bowed and scraped, calling out praise to their beloved Atom. Heedless of the cool moist wind which plastered their clothes to their thin frames and whipped the hair about their heads. They knelt even as a forty foot wave smashed into the crater and utterly erased all trace that the children had ever been there. The ghouls snarled and hissed as they too were swept away, the scrapped pieces of the airplane fuselage giving no more protection from the wave than a paper sack.

Harry witnessed it all, sprays of salt water soaking him even from his height. In minutes it was over, the crater nothing more than a filthy cove empty of both inhabitants and habitats. He held his wand out, searching for any trace of survivors.

There! One person. As he flew closer Harry couldn't help the scowl that uglied his face. The cult leader treaded water, blood streaming down his head as he smiled up at Harry in rapturous bliss. His disgust having reached its apex, Harry whipped his wand and snapped the man's neck, watching dispassionately for a long time as the man's body bobbed lifelessly in the water.

A quick charm to rid himself of the ocean water which had drenched him, he cut to the north, swinging wide along the outskirts of Salem. He gazed at it with wonder, already in love with the place and its people. They were a good lot, working together to build something for everyone to share joy in. He saw Barney Rook and another man, working hard to repair a boat despite the clamoring of children at their heels. They were why he did what he did. And why he was going to do more.

By the time he arrived back at the plant, the battle had ended. His heart was in his throat as he moved through the detritus of the fight, hoping that the robotic servants of the institute hadn't left yet.

"Movement detected. Analyzing threat."

He almost sighed in relief. The 'synths' had merely gone inside to finish off those raiders within. His nose wrinkled at the smell of long dead fish, his confusion palpable as he wondered how on earth it could still smell like that after 200 years.

He instinctually dodged as a bright blue lance of energy impacted the wall next to him, the clanking strides of the approaching synths echoing in the vast packing plant. He wasted no time, throwing his wand forward and casting an achingly bright blast of lightning at the first synth.

The lightning forked and raced hungrily through the air, striking the synths as if the charm were alive and took special delight in destroying mechanical aberrations as these. They stood upright and convulsed, millions of volts systemically destroying their sensitive components. He stepped over the sparking remains, careful not to burn himself on the pools of melted plastic.

He descended deeper into the plant, riding a freight elevator down and nearly wetting himself as a limbless torso tumbled down the shaft with him and bounced around on the lift. He exited the lift, a little faster than was dignified, and continued his hunt.

He emerged two hours later, scouring the interior of the plant and now coming under renewed laser fire from a force that had somehow concealed itself outside. Harry had no time to recriminate himself for the lapse, lashing out with his wand in whatever destructive manner he could devise.

A laser burned along his calf and sent him tumbling to the grated metal floor. He gritted his teeth against the pain and sent a confringo at the offending synth. He stumbled to his feet only to lose his balance again when a freight train struck him in the back.

If his shoulder wasn't dislocated, he'd count himself lucky. The agony on his back was profound and a scream nearly tore itself from his throat as he rolled, an armor wearing synth bearing down on him with its fists raised.

He whipped his wand upward and sent the synth shooting straight up several hundred feet, limping away as it crashed back down in a jumbled mess of sparking circuits. 3 more came in to finish him, their weapons raised with lethal intent.

Harry conjured a wall of fire, wielding it like a massive curtain of fiery brilliance and swept it over the trio again and again. The first pass set them ablaze, the second melting their plastic casing and the third reducing them to molten slag that bubbled and popped on the ground.

The pain in his back decided that now was a good time to remind him of his injuries, and he fell to the ground in agony. Day had long failed and he struggled to crawl in the dark with only the glow from the smoldering synths to guide him. Finally he reached the spot where he had secreted his broom.

'Next time, I bring a stimpack… or three.' Harry thought to himself, as he mounted the broom and pushed off, trying not to faint from the pain spiking though him. He glided into Salem, his energy nearly spent. Thankfully, few were awake at this hour and none saw his approach. Even the guards on the walls, watchful for enemies approaching along the ground took no heed of the exhausted wizard coasting in above them.

He landed on the roof of the house he shared with Neville and George and stumbled into his room through the fire escape.

"Bloody hell Harry! What are you doing in there?"

"Nothing! Sorry! Fell out of bed!" He called back, hoping that it would satisfy George.

George merely grumbled something about wrapping Harry in feathers so he'd be quieter if he insisted on being so clumsy. Harry sighed in relief and fell on his bed, very nearly tumbling off of it when he bounced against the edge. He caught himself in time, his shoulder screaming at the abuse. He half pulled and half rolled onto the bed properly and lay there panting. The room began to lighten with dawn as his exhaustion overwhelmed the pain and sent Harry into the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Salem Settlement**

Harry awoke after a restless sleep, the bright afternoon sun stabbing painfully in his face as he lay in bed. He swung his legs off and set them on the floor, rising up and clutching his throbbing head. He stood up on shaky legs and padded over to his sink, hoping that some cold water splashed on his face would wake him from his stupor. Hermione was due back later this evening after her adventures with the Minuteman General, and he wanted to be ready to meet her.

He rolled his shoulder, testing the movement against the massive bruise which shadowed his pale skin. He covered it with a shirt and tried not to wince as he pulled his arm through the sleeve. Hopefully he could squeeze in a quick visit to Doc Anderson and grab a bite before she came back. He figured it would be much easier to talk about what he had been up to since she were gone if he was hale and hearty. He replayed the events in his head, second guessing himself, searching for the guilt he thought he ought to feel and finding nothing but smug satisfaction instead.

What he hadn't counted on was the dark look on Daphne's face. She was standing right outside his door and he had nearly walked into her on his way out. He sputtered for a moment, confusion screwing up his face at her angry expression.

"You didn't say goodnight to me. I came looking for you and saw you gliding in on your broom in the dead of night looking like you had rolled around with a dragon. You care to explain yourself?" She nearly shouted into his face.

Harry groaned, a headache blossoming in his head like an angry red explosion. "Any chance we could go to the diner and talk about it? Quietly?" Harry pleaded.

Concern replaced the anger to a large degree and she brusquely nodded as he led the way to the diner. At some point during their walk, his hand found hers and he felt a palpable sensation of relief when she accepted his hand readily. He brought her hand up and kissed it gently, glancing at her with his customary crooked grin.

Her eyebrow was a crooked arch above her right eye, "If you think being sweet makes me any less angry at you, you are quite mistaken."

Harry sighed and held up a hand to ward off the chorus of hellos and good mornings that assailed them as he opened the door to the diner. He mumbled something appropriate and sank into the padded booth nearest the door, Daphne squeezing in beside him.

Without preamble, "Alright, spill it."

Harry began slowly, first relating the broom ride he had taken Nat on and the things they had seen. He paused as if gathering his nerve, Daphne leaning over and patting his hand encouragingly. He told her of his confrontation with the Children of Atom and his subsequent battle with the synths at the fish packing plant.

Hesitatingly, he looked up at her, expecting horror or a recriminating look of some kind. Instead he looked upon a beautiful and resolute face of a woman whose eyes held nothing but acceptance and pride.

"You did what you had to do to protect us Harry. This is a harsh world and it sometimes takes an action that we would never have conceived of back in the old world. It's like the 2d Wizarding War only magnified."

Relief flooded through him, though he felt no guilt for the lives he had taken, it would have devastated him had Daphne pulled away. Instead, she pulled in closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He resisted wincing despite the pain that arced through him. He endured it for the emotional comfort her closeness brought to him.

They kissed briefly, just as the matron brought a plate for them.

Neville and the settlers assigned to help him with the crops hadn't yet finished transplanting the crops from the Minutemen settlement. So the plate was a little barer than he was used to. He sighed at the plate, knowing that the meager offering for his grumbling stomach was not going to be well received. Daphne chuckled at his expense and nudged him, prompting a bemused smile from the hungry and sore wizard.

Though paltry, the food was still quite good. Someone had made butter and sweetened it with sugar that Luna had extracted from a case of sugar bombs. Harry and Daphne slathered the rich, sweet butter on their razorgrain bread and alternated bites of it with salted molerat. It actually tasted like salted pork! Harry remembered someone saying that the molerat had to be prepped by cleansing it of the rancid chemicals that the beast uses to ward off predators then soaked in brine.

After their meal, they were pleasantly surprised to be given small teacups with actual tea and a creamer filled with cream made from brahmin milk. Harry closed his eyes in wonder at the delight to his tastebuds. The tea was ancient and most of the flavor had leeched out over time, but it was still heavenly. Later he learned that Tommy Lonegan had brought several cases that had been preserved in a museum somewhere. They had been touted as the few crates of tea not tossed into the harbor during the Boston Tea Party. He made a promise to himself to repay Tommy for this kindness.

They left the diner and at Harry's urging, headed to George's workshop.

At any given time of day, and often well into the night as well, George Weasley could be found in his shop, a portion of a brick building across from the church's north side. He shared space with the muggle inventor Mr. William, an old and kindly man who had arrived weeks ago with his granddaughter.

They approached the shop to the sounds of industry coming from within. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim light bleeding feebly from a pair of desk lamps.

A sudden bang was followed by a yelp. A redhead staggered out from a plume of smoke coughing and hacking to be quickly followed by a man wearing an assault gas mask. Clearly, Mr. William was swiftly learning to take precautions in the company of wizards and witches.

Daphne waved her wand to clear the smoke and rushed over to George, who nodded in thanks just as another coughing fit overcame him.

Mr. William pulled the gas mask off and gifted the both of them with a smile and a slight bow. "Good day to you both. What brings you to our happy little corner?"

Harry grinned back at the inventor, "Good day Mr. William. Came to see how you two were getting on, especially as it relates to owls."

George recovered, wiping his soot covered hands over a soot covered forehead, succeeding only in making a bigger mess of himself. "Hey Harry. We were just working on a modification. A self-destruct in case an owl gets captured."

"So, back to the drawing board then?" Harry asked wryly.

"Oh no. Worked perfectly. I was just eh… too enthusiastic to take the same precaution as Walt here."

"Brilliant." Daphne snorted.

"So, how many owls do you two have ready?" Harry asked, suppressing his own mirth admirably.

"We have twelve so far, had to use a quietus charm for all the ruckus. They like to talk to each other see. You wouldn't believe the noise." George led the way to a shelf along the back of the workshop. Perched along the middle shelf were the promised dozen owls, all different colors and possessing other minor variations among them to make each unique.

"This is fantastic George! Walt! Now that we're friendly with the Minutemen, we can send some of these owls to their settlements, tell them how to use them so we can all communicate with each other."

"Wait, the minutemen are back?" Walt pressed, eagerly.

"Well yes. We met their General in Sanctuary. They're making some kind of comeback. I think Piper's going to do a story about it. In fact, I'm pretty sure she was making preparations to head out to Sanctuary in the next day or so."

Walt absolutely beamed, "Years ago, some minutemen rescued my granddaughter and I from some raiders when we used to live near Bunker Hill. We had to abandon our home there, but they saw us safely to Diamond City. I never got the chance to thank them. I was disheartened to hear about their collapse. But now I get a second chance to thank them properly."

"Well, I'm sure Piper wouldn't mind some company on her trip. Luna and Fingers were going along as well, I hear Luna is going a little wonky being cooped up here. Besides, she heard about Mama Murphy's visions or whatnot and wanted to meet her."

"Well then, I'll just need to make arrangements for my Annabelle."

"No worries Mr. William, I'll be happy to look after her." Daphne volunteered. She leapt at any chance to care for the children, Harry was almost frightened at her intensity in that regard as it was a facet of her that he would have never imagined.

Harry and Daphne left the workshop a short time later, after securing George's promise that he would send the owls that were ready along with Walt and Piper as they visited the Minuteman settlements. He had also asked that one be sent to Diamond City, as Harry was anxious for any scrap of news about the wayward Cait.

They were headed to the office/home of their local newspaper when Barney came jogging up to them.

"Morning, Mr. Mayor. Mrs. Mayor."

Harry gaped at the greeting and for her part, Daphne appeared charmed by it. Before Harry could rationally respond, Barney cut to the chase.

"I heard that there was a fight up at the fish packing plant."

Harry glanced at Daphne, she was the only one he had told and she had been at his side all morning…

"Heard the gunfire yesterday, sent a few watchmen to check it out early this morning. They came back after a brief look to say that some raiders and synths had wiped each other out up there." Barney fixed Harry with a look as if to say, 'you know anything about that?'

"Yeah, actually I do know about it." Harry admitted, "I flew over it yesterday and was afraid of the synths reporting back that they saw a man flying around on a broom. So I went down and made sure none of them made it back."

"Well done, Mr. Mayor, sir." Harry blanched at the formality, which wasn't entirely sarcastic from Barney's point of view.

"You mind if I send some boys up there proper then? We can collect whatever salvage we can from the raiders and the synths, maybe even some from the plant itself. Lots of metal and machinery up there."

"Yeah, actually that's a good idea."

Later that day, with their lunch of grilled carrots and cooked softshell meat following after breakfast in terms of disappointment, Harry gathered up all the witches and wizards, minus Hermione of course, in the basement of the old church.

Daphne stood next him, Harry drawing support from her proximity. He gave the group an abridged version of events from yesterday. His proclamation was met at first with silence. Eventually, as a group, they all came to terms with what he had done and as Daphne had, agreed that he had taken the lesser of the necessary evils. Better them than us, Neville had declared, somewhat surprising Harry.

He then told them of Barney's request to send some of the militia out to the fish packing plant to gather salvage. Susan Bones volunteered to accompany the group, a declaration that seemed to surprise no one as much as it did Susan itself. She admitted that she needed to toughen up to be able to face threats like Harry did, as they could not always rely on him to fight their battles for them.

* * *

 **POV: Unknown group, heading south along Commonwealth coast**

The soft mewling cries from the youngest among them had diminished over time until there was no energy to do anything other than place one foot in front of another.

He had never been so tired in his life, but as one of the few security officers left, it was his duty to keep alert and safeguard his wards. He felt keenly exposed on the road, as if the Vault security armor and 10mm pistol were woefully inadequate against the outside world.

Why had they come? The question was one he still wrestled with, despite the futility of it in the face of day to day survival. All that mattered was that they HAD come. That somehow, the vault blast door had answered to them and opened. That frightening figures in power armor had marched in and taken them in droves at gunpoint, killing any who resisted or even questioned their actions.

The overseer was the first to die, followed by Doctor Chambers and Security Chief Yukio. They had taken their fill and commanded the rest to stay, sealing the door back to ensure their compliance. Panic had nearly overcome them then, the few left behind, wailing for lost family members.

Chief Engineer Ramona Vargas has managed to get the door open, urged them all to flee, to run! A tentative first step turned into an exodus. Thinking back, they should have planned better, taken only what they needed. The road behind them was choked with the detritus of useless items that the vault dwellers had brought. So few brought food, or water. At least the security force had brought their weapons and extra ammunition.

Now, a week after the exodus, exhaustion and hunger proving to be more of a threat to their survival than raiders or mutated beasts. For the hundredth time since they left, he did a headcount, standing along the side of the road as the shuffling morass of human misery shambled past. Damn… 68 people, lost 2 more since the last time he counted.

His eyes were long dried of any tears he would have shed for the lost souls left behind somewhere on the road behind them. He walked at a swifter pace to reach the front of the column and once again led the way south.

His despair had started to play tricks on his mind, as out of the grey dirt that surrounded them, a gleaming white wall rose up to their left, its smooth surface unmarred by time or conflict. He could even see gates, shining steel completely bereft of rust or dirt. He wouldn't have been surprised to see something like it in the vault. But then, delusions drew on what you knew, he reasoned.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Salem Settlement**

"Harry! You need to come see this!"

Harry frowned up at the militiaman up on the wall, gripping the rail firmly with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. He made it sound urgent, so Harry raised his wand, "Ascendio!"

Harry rocketed upward, the spell propelling him upward and pushing his stomach somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. He disliked the spell, as it gave no provision for how to land after the upward burst it provided. Thankfully, the Militia was on point and grabbed him as he sailed up to them.

He wobbled a bit but regained his balance long enough to murmur his thanks before the object of the guardsman's concern had him gaping out to the road.

A long line of ragged looking men, women and children shuffled along, some of them looking up at the wall with blank stares. Curiously, they were all dressed in blue jumpsuits of a sort, with the number 202 emblazoned on the back. Vault suits, he recalled. Piper had filled in some information about some of the idiosyncrasies of the wastelands. One of them being underground Vaults that many people took shelter in during the Great War.

"They don't seem to notice us. Like they're all in a daze or something." Harry pondered aloud.

"Yeah, I noticed that too. Many of them are wounded. I think they must have travelled a long way. The surface is probably a lot different from what they were used to below. Must be in shock."

"Periculum!" Harry shouted, lobbing the flare upwards.

Several of the refugees paused at the signal, some eyes fearful, others blank. In minutes, the ramparts were crowded with witches, wizards and militia all looking out over the refugees with astonished and pitied expressions.

"We have to help Harry." Daphne murmured, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. He nodded, agreeing with her assessment.

The gates were opened wide and the entire Salem Volunteer Militia rushed forth, all ten veterans and six newly inducted members taking up positions along either side of the road. The line of refugees staggered to a halt as half a dozen men and women wearily raised side arms in a show of resistance.

"No, no!" Harry shouted, running out trailed by the others, "We're here to help!"

The security personnel dropped their weapons, more as a testament to their exhaustion than to any assurance they gleaned from Harry's announcement.

"Please, come in. We have food and shelter. You're safe now." Daphne cooed, as she led a young mother with her two children. The refugees animated a little, hope daring to stir within their haggard breasts as more people streamed from the walled city with gentle hands and sympathetic eyes.

Many finally found some measure of emotion and simply cried as they were led into the protection of the city's walls, kind faces smiling with reassurance and passing out purified water containers and loaves of hardy bread, reassuringly warm in their cold hands. No, it was no illusion, it was perhaps an end to their waking nightmare.

Harry and company worked through the night, tending to injuries though most suffered from malnourishment, dehydration and simple exhaustion. They bedded them down in every available space, Harry bemoaning the fact that there was little room for a group of this size all at once.

He could tell that Neville was nervous too, as even with limited duplication, there wasn't enough food for them all over the long term. He put these concerns aside for now, as he carried a boy of eight to an empty bed and laid the malnourished little body down to rest.

By morning, the folk of Salem were haggard, though not to the extent that their guests were. Harry sat in the church with the de facto leader of the group, along with Daphne, Barney and Luna. The others had taken the chance to catch a little rest before resuming their work.

"Can you explain? Who are you and why are you out here?" Harry began, as gently as he could.

They waited patiently, as the man gazed empty eyed at his own feet. The words, when they came, were scarcely a whisper.

"We're from Vault 202, in what was once Montreal. Our ancestors fled to it when the bombs fell and lived there ever since, safe from the dangers outside. Until recently, when the outside came to us."

Another long pause, as if every word spoken leeched precious vitality directly from him.

"They forced the door open. I wasn't on duty then. My partner Glen was there, they shot him down before he could even get his pistol out. They came in, scores of them. They had robots, the likes of which I've never even heard of. They were of every type and description, skulls for heads, blades for hands… they were nightmares forged from metal. The people were armored in the corpses of their servants, robotic parts fashioned into protection for them. They started to take people, man or woman, it didn't matter."

Harry swallowed hard, trying to draw back from empathizing too much. He needed to be clear headed to really help these people and look out for his own at the same time.

"They killed the Overseer when he demanded to know what they were doing. They killed the Chief of Security for the same thing. They killed the doctor for no good reason at all. I saw the pattern though. Anyone over 40 was killed. Anyone with any kind of infirmity… they only wanted the healthy and the young."

Daphne gasped in shock and reached out blindly for Harry's hand. He squeezed it in reassurance and encouraged the man to continue.

"They took hundreds, killed hundreds more. In the end, they left two hundred of us. Sealed us back in, told us to await their return. Chief Engineer, she… found a way to open the door. Told us to run. She didn't. She did something I think. We were just in the tunnel, the last of us, when my pip-boy went crazy with rads. We ran. She… must have disabled the coolant. Reactor meltdown. Denying our home to the enemy I guess."

"We walked southeast. Thought that maybe along the coast we would find help, or… god I don't know what we were thinking. We started as 200. My last count put us at 68 survivors. Dehydration and exhaustion took most, raiders and mutated crabs took others. We're all that's left."

"My god. Do you know who did this to you? What they wanted?" Barney asked.

"They never said why. But I did hear a name. The name of the one who wanted us. They whispered it amongst themselves when they thought we couldn't hear. They spoke the name in awe and fear. The name was… Jeremiah."

* * *

 **POV: Morgan Le Fay, Mount Greylock, West Commonwealth**

The castle barely deserved the moniker 'ruin'. There was little enough left to be called anything at all. Still, a single trapdoor, shrouded against casual observation, opened easily enough at her urging.

She stayed in the circle of light provided by her lumos, the orb bobbing along above her left shoulder. Her thrall scampered along behind her, his hands firmly clasped around the satchel she occasionally filled with items of she deemed of worth as they explored the vaults beneath Ilvermorny.

She paused as she sensed something… a thickening of the air in front of her. Damn her lack of a wand! With one she could discern the nature of the mystery which confounded her. Without one, well there was nothing for it but to proceed. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, and again. Nothing.

A low groan reverberated throughout the vaults, like the earth was settling above them. A thrumming wave of force passed beneath their feet and suddenly Morgan knew. It was a time lock. A time lock she had broken by crossing.

Peering about carefully, she walked with almost painful deliberation.

She felt something…

A shadow disengaged from the wall and plodded on small feet, planting itself firmly in her path.

"Finally!" It roared. "Do you know how much back pay you owe my clan?! This is unacceptable! I don't care that the world ended, it is no way to honor a contract!"

The curious figure stood a mere two feet high with wild bushy hair radiating from its body in complete disarray. Its skin was the grey of potter's clay and its ears were large and round. It held a bow and arrow in one hand, the other curled in a fist and shaking at her in anger.

"A pukwudgie!" Morgan exclaimed, delighted that something of her world survived.

"What were you expecting?! A house elf?" It demanded.

"What can I call you?" Morgan asked politely. She knew that a Pukwudgie would never tell a human its individual name.

"If you must, you may call me William. Now about my payment."

"Yes, I do apologize for the oversight my dear William. I will be sure to recompense you for the time you had served."

"And the rest of my contract? I can't very well go back out into the world your people destroyed now can I!" He was incensed, over two centuries trapped within a time lock meant to keep the school safe, knowing only that great fire had rained on the world. And that it was likely the human's fault.

"I will honor your contract, sir."

"Fine." It snapped, as if cajoled into agreeing against his wishes. It waved her on and plodded alongside her, snapping at her thrall when it veered too close.

"Since you are here, you can do something with these." He growled, pushing an armful of letters her way. She took one daintily and smiled in thanks. She gestured for her thrall to take the others, which he did fearfully under the diminutive figure's scowl.

She quickly perused the letter… an invitation to join a magical society… in Salem.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, Salem Settlement**

With every word Neville uttered, the headache that had begun in Harry's head only grew in degrees to match the gravity of their situation.

He had found him in the field next to the church, busily tending to the crops already planted there. He had sent the others to the fields just inside the walls, planting those crops that the Minutemen had given them.

"I'm telling you Harry, we have maybe 3 or 4 days' worth of food. Unless of course I use the crops that the Minutemen gave us, it'll extend our supplies by a week at most… but then we won't have the plants to grow more food with. We can't have our cake and eat it too."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, "How did it get so desperate Neville?" He didn't mean to be accusatory, but they were in a tough spot.

"We had plenty before those vaultees showed up, enough to last us until the new crops got planted and started producing. Plants grow much faster than before, but not fast enough to compensate for more than doubling the number of mouths to feed."

They were on the cusp of an argument, and Harry didn't want to fight with Neville over something he knew logically wasn't his fault.

"What were we supposed to do, Neville? Should we have turned them away?"

Neville's face fell, "Of course not. But we have to come up with a plan and fast."

Harry promised that they would come up with something and walked away, heading for the old convalescent home, repaired and refurbished for the vault survivors. The building was large enough to house them all, but only had about a dozen individual rooms, the rest were laying on mattresses spread out over the common rooms.

The only ones happy about the situation were the Mr. Handy robots still operational after all these years. They happily helped care for the refugees, heedless of the fact that they were young people and not elderly.

He met Daphne coming out of the building, a tired and haggard look somehow making her even more beautiful. Despite their situation, her presence brightened his mood a little.

She smiled at him, like sunlight peeking behind grey clouds. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, her lips warm against his and making him forget everything else for a moment.

"How is everyone?" Harry asked, choosing to walk with Daphne instead of heading into the shelter.

"They're getting on, all their wounds had been seen to by Doc Anderson. They've all been fed and given clean water; all that is left is for them to rest and come to terms with what has happened to them. It may take a while." Daphne reported sadly.

"We'll do everything we can for them." He sighed deeply, "But them being here puts a strain on our food situation. It's too bad that duplication is so…" He couldn't finish his thought, despair edging back in.

They walked silently for a moment, entering the church intent on reaching the new rookery to check for messages.

"It's a temporary solution, but at the very least, we can go out hunting. Mirelurk meat is quite good even though I'd be just as happy if I never ate crab again."

Daphne's face screwed up in exaggerated disgust, "I know what you mean. Do you know what I'd do for some chocolate and a butter beer?"

Harry groaned, "Ah, don't remind me!"

She laughed as they climbed the stairs to the bell tower. At the top, the six owls that remained hooted their greetings. The other six were out on assignment, with two at Sanctuary, one delivering a message to Nick Valentine in Diamond City, the fourth flying to Bunker Hill with a request for the traders there and the last two circling high above Salem keeping a lookout.

Wait. There were seven owls here. The seventh, a bright orange and yellow fellow with bright green eyes, hooted and hopped forward, presenting a message tube to the pair.

"What is it?" Daphne asked, squeezing in closer to get a look.

"It's from Mr. Valentine! That was fast!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes tore through the message, hopeful for a scrap of good news.

"Nick says that everything is well in Diamond City, the mayor is especially jubilant lately now that Piper and Nat had left. Nick wants me to give the girls his regards. Oh here we go, he had been talking to traders in Diamond City; turns out one had heard a story from Trashcan Carla…Trashcan Carla?"

Harry shook his head at the name, "Anyway, the trader heard a story from her about a vault dweller and a redheaded firecracker taking on some Gunners near Old North Church. He has gone to on to Bunker Hill to talk to Carla directly and get more details. Wishing us well, Nick. Well, there's a small bit of news at least."

"It's something." Daphne agreed.

"I may have something else for you then, if news is what you crave." Lady Helena stated, as she glided up to them.

"Good morning, Lady Ravenclaw. You're right, though I would prefer good news." Harry managed a small smile for the ghostly woman.

"Ms. Granger asked me to send word that you need to pay attention to the mirror, she's been worried sick that something has happened to you all. Also, I am to berate you heartily but under the circumstances, I believe I will refrain."

"My thanks." Harry breathed, his hope dimming.

"In any case, she and that handsome dark haired fellow have been touring the settlements and looking for rocks apparently. We were at a settlement called, 'Starlight', a far more whimsical name then that place deserves, when she asked me to come back. Mr. Jonathan had received some kind of distress call from a caravan that he seemed rather adamant about investigating. He offered to let her stay there or return to Salem, but she insisted on going with him. They don't seem to get on very well." Helena mused.

The silence stretched out as Helena pondered their relationship until a gentle cough brought her back from her rumination.

"My apologies. Ah, before they left, Jonathan had asked that a trade caravan add Salem to its list of stops. Do forgive me, I'm trying to remember it all… I should have written it all down."

"It's fine. It'd be good to have open trade with the Minuteman settlements. Though I doubt it will help us in time with our food shortage."

"Ah yes! The caravan is being loaded with tools and material to help a new settlement at Taffy boathouse. Taffy? That can't be right. Anyway, then they will continue to another new settlement called Greentop to deliver more parts and pick up mutfruit and carrots. From there they go to the Slog, drop off the last of the tools and pick up corn and tarberries. Tarberry sound dreadful, but I'm told that aside from being a little tart, that they are quite good, especially as jam."

She made a face, as if unused to using such crude words. She had been a particularly proud and haughty witch in life, and that certainly hadn't changed in death.

Harry felt a tiny sense of relief. Knowing that the Minutemen, despite not knowing how dire Salem's situation was, was nonetheless sending precisely the type of help they needed. He just hoped that it would arrive in time.

"Lady, could I prevail on you to go back and keep an eye on this caravan?"

Helena sighed dramatically, as though such tasks were beneath her.

"I'm to be an errand girl then is it? Very well, let it not be said that I am unhelpful." She nodded tersely and floated away.

"She seems less sad than she used to." Daphne noted.

"Probably has a lot to do with being far away from the Bloody Baron." Harry murmured.

"They didn't get along?"

"He's the one that killed her."

* * *

 **POV: Susan Bones, Coastal Cottage**

Her cheeks were flushed with adrenaline, her chest heaving with exertion after her harrowing fight on the hilltop. She and Vincent had approached the lone cottage while Barney and his group of militia checked out the fish packing plant, each of them holding a bag enchanted with extension charms.

She had asked Vincent to check the garage while she approached the house blissfully unaware of the greedy eyes which followed her. She poked through the debris, considering how much it would take to repair the house when she first became aware that she wasn't alone. It hit her first as a stench of liquor, cigarette smoke and rancid body odor.

She whirled, her wand out when a body slammed into hers and clasped a dirty hand around her white throat. Her breath cut off by the powerful grip, she couldn't call for help. She writhed and gasped as the filthy raider leered at her, pulling a rusty combat knife from his belt.

Her wand! She jabbed it at the raider, her intent and desperate need manifesting as a blast of energy which hurled the man back. He roared in pain and rage as Susan scrambled back to her feet. With snarl of her own, she repeated her feat, blasting the raider through the thin wall behind him. Vincent shouted out, though his words were indistinct with the roaring in her ears.

Susan stalked forward as the raider struggled to his feet. With an animalistic cry, she blasted him a third time, hurling him clear off the hill hundreds of feet. She watched as he sailed through the air and landed with a wet smack on the rocks along the coastline. She stood and stared out even as Vincent joined her, probing her body for any wounds. He said something, she didn't know what, and ran off to check on the raider.

A single gunshot later, he returned to her, still standing at the edge of the hilltop looking out at the ocean.

"Susan?"

She looked at him and blinked, her face screwing up in a sudden giggle. She doubled over as the fit overtook her, laughing at the absurdity of it all. She wiped the streaming tears from her cheeks, her eyes blazing with a strange heat. She grabbed a frowning Vincent and pulled his face down, planting a fierce kiss on his lips.

"Hey!" She said in wonder, "You don't smell like cigarettes!"

Vincent looked somewhat flushed and abashed, "Yeah, I heard you didn't like it, so I quit."

He would have died for her right then, for the smile that she gave him almost made his heart weep at the beauty it evoked in his soul. She pulled him down for another kiss, softly this time, slower, but more passionate for the deliberate tenderness in the gesture.

Several hours later, the pair rejoined Barney and his troopers, their faces brightened with satisfied smiles at the haul they liberated from the plant. They smiled up at the restored cottage, the magic Susan mustered having answered her call in a way that it never had before. The house was pristine and she had warded it as best as she could to keep it for Salem's future use.

The group hiked back to Salem, none of them so much as batting an eye at Susan and Vincent holding hands.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, 3 days after the Refugees arrival**

Harry's smile was broad and genuine as he greeted the caravan that trundled through the gates of Salem. There were four pack brahmin loaded with sacks of what he hoped was food being escorted by four provisioners and an equal number of Minutemen. They tipped their hats to Harry as Neville took charge of them, directing a small group of settlers to unload the crops near the field adjacent to the church.

"Preston! I didn't know you were with this group! You are well met, sir!"

Preston grinned at him, tipping his hat in respect.

"I've wanted to check out how you folks were settling in over here. In many ways, you already outshine Diamond City! Not to mention, our special escort was a delight."

Wait. Did he mean the Grey lady? A delight?

"Well, you are most welcome. You and your men can make use of that building there," Harry pointed to a dual two story structure attached to the diner. It was some kind of textile mill and clothing outlet, but we remodeled it for traders passing through. Brahmin can be penned behind the fence there."

The building was shaped like a "U" with a walkway built to connect the two wings of the building and the empty space in between fenced off and covered in a layer of fresh razorgrain stalks.

"That's great!" Preston agreed, "I thought that we could iron out what kind of trade you guys may want to engage in, make a somewhat more formal agreement between us."

"We recently got a spate of new mouths to feed. This food you brought is a huge relief. I think we will need more for the short term until Neville can get our own farmland up to the task of feeding everyone."

"That's certainly doable, most of our settlements were self-sufficient farms even before they joined the Minutemen. Now that they have Minuteman support, they are doing even better. At a guess, I would say we grow 3 to 4 times more food than we need. In fact, the next time we're up here, I'll have the provisioners bring up some extra brahmin for you. Their milk is good and they produce it their whole adult life. Once they get infirm, we put them down gently and store their meat in those coolers you folks fixed for us. There are settlers are out there that would give you guys the shirts off their backs just for that! Nothing beats a cold beer on a hot day!"

Harry grinned and decided to throw in a personal request, "Well, if any of your people come across some tea, we'll call it even."

"Deal!" Preston laughed.

Harry gave Preston the nickel tour, first showing him the old convalescent home where the bulk of the vault refugees still stayed.

Next they walked along the wall that closed off their little peninsula, pointing out the blister along the outer edge which held a panoply of different turrets.

He showed him the church where they held their town meetings and the field next to it, where Neville grew the bulk of their crops.

They skirted the edge of the church, Harry pointing out the restored houses and the businesses being refurbished for other use. He stopped at a small factory like building where muffled banging could be heard coming from within.

"This is where George and Walt, our resident inventors, come up with new ideas that combine magic with muggle technology. They made those owls that you saw."

"That reminds me," Preston replied, "those owls are perfect for scouting and delivering secure packages, I'd like to officially request some more part of our next trade package."

"Consider it done." Harry agreed, "About how many do you think you'll need?"

"We have eight settlements now, I would like to have two for each. Maybe a few more for future expansion? Make it an even 20 for now."

Harry nodded, "That will take a bit of time. If they do nothing else, George and Walt can build 3 a day. We got plenty of raw material from the fish packing plant north of here. We'll deliver them in batches until you say stop, how about that?"

"Perfect." Preston answered, "The General will be pleased by that."

"Speaking of. What's the last you heard from him and Hermione? I haven't spoken to her since yesterday morning and she seemed pensive."

"The last I heard, they were heading for some General Atomics Factory. Seems as though there are new threats in the Commonwealth these days. Marauding bands of rogue robots and a new raider gang that uses robots too to terrorize people."

A chill ran down Harry's spine at the description. It sounded like the attackers that the Vault refugees had described.

"You alright? You look pale." Preston noted, worry edging into his tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you know anything about these new raiders?"

"Only that they call themselves the Rust Devils. They seem to concentrate on gathering robot parts and kidnapping people for the most part, but they aren't above the usual bit of murder and mayhem that other raiders engage in. I've stepped up patrols in the areas we control, but we haven't sighted them ourselves yet."

"What about those, rogue robots you mentioned?"

"The General sent me a holotape, a recording of some guy who calls himself the Mechanist. Apparently he has a sick sense of humor, he claims to be helping the Commonwealth. Meanwhile his robots menace the countryside, killing anything living they come across. His current mission is aimed at stopping this Mechanist."

Harry sighed as he considered his people in the midst of so much strife. When food itself was a challenge to provide, how would they deal effectively against so many variables while trying to pursue any leads on the magical children likely scattered across the Commonwealth?

* * *

 **POV: Cait, somewhere to the west of the Commonwealth.**

"I should have known better than to trust that crazy bitch," she chided herself for perhaps the hundredth time.

"If I see that Harvey, I'll be putting me fist so far up his arse that he'll be tasting me nail polish for a month." She grumbled, directing her ire at anyone she could think of that had led to her current predicament.

If she were to be honest, her dependence on psycho had probably led her to making some bad decisions… it certainly didn't help when she had had a falling out with Nora. She was all for some arse kicking, but Nora was becoming too extreme even for her. She hightailed it out of there before things got worse, anyone saying that it couldn't possibly get worse was clearly lacking in imagination.

Like the position she was in now, dangling a hundred feet in the air, the only thing holding her up was the buckle of a seatbelt caught in a belt loop of her pants. If she moved too much, the tram groaned precipitously, rapidly making her rethink her life plans.

She had been coming back to the Commonwealth, riding that damn tram back when Nora, the spiteful bitch that she was, shot at her with a fuckin missile launcher! Whether she meant to kill her or not was irrelevant, as the missile struck the train and caused it to wobble horribly as it barreled along the raised rail network.

It had eventually skidded to a halt, but not before throwing her clear from it, dangling by a single and unusually long seatbelt. It must have been a seatbelt for a fat person, she couldn't imagine anyone else needin' a four foot strap to secure their arses on a damn bench.

So there she was, dangling like a ragdoll from a tram in the middle of the nowhere between the Commonwealth and Nuka-World, wondering how in the hell she was going to get out of this one.

* * *

 **POV: Harry Potter, flying south along the eastern coast of the Commonwealth**

Despite his relief that Hermione had finally made contact via mirror, her tone had injected him with a sense of trepidation that more than her physical state might be in jeopardy.

She was holed up in a General Atomics Factory somewhere to the east of Diamond City with a wounded and possibly dying Minuteman General. Though they had managed to wipe out the mechanist's robots inside, the brain-bot had exploded while Jonathan was right next to it, blowing him clear through the metal security fencing closing off that part of the room. He was badly hurt and unconscious, Hermione on the edge of panic.

Harry had had a flash of inspiration, trying the mirror to an owl's ability to locate its destination. It flew ahead of them now, the silvery contrails a visible marker for Daphne and him to follow.

They were able to fly high enough to avoid detection, but the owl began to dip, indicating that they were getting close.

There! Strange… there was a motley assemblage right outside the doors, as if waiting. They looked like… Rust Devils!

The details had started to come together in Harry's mind, between the testimony of the Vault refugees and Preston's report. These raiders had to be servants of Jeremiah. If he became aware of their existence…

The Rust Devils had no inkling of the doom that was about to befall them. One moment they were waiting outside the factory, rumor having it that not only was there sweet salvage inside, but there were two adults in their prime there that Jeremiah would reward them handsomely for bringing back. The next they were flying through the air, strangely and painfully aflame as they howled like human comets in the sky.

Harry didn't spare them a moment to recover, he vaulted from his broom and hit the ground at a roll. Daphne joined him and the pair of them sent spears of ice or bursts of lightning into the struggling raiders.

In moments, the raiding party was dead and the earnest witch and wizard were pounding their way through the factory, calling out for their friend.

They found her kneeling in a pool of blood, no less than 3 spent stimpacks littered on the ground around her. Lying next to her, his skin wan and pale, Jonathan tenuously held on to life. His body had been badly burned and perforated by a multitude of metal shards, each thrown aside as Hermione pulled them from his body.

She was untrained in the use of stimpacks, and so used quantity as a quality all its own, as the ever prepared General carried a thigh pouch with several of them. She held the last one in her blood soaked hands, eyes red as she considered where to put it.

Daphne gently took it from her and nodded to Harry. Harry took hold of Hermione and comforted her as Daphne looked over Jonathan and determined the best way to proceed.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine." Hermione answered, in a tone that said that she was anything but, "We were doing so well. Ada there," Hermione gestured, and Harry saw their robot companion for the first time, "guided us here; helped us fight our way through these robots. We didn't know that the leader would explode like that! He… shielded me from the blast. I did the best I could, but I'm not a doctor and I don't have any ditony!"

"He'll be alright." Daphne called out, "You saved him, Hermione. He'll be alright."


	5. Chapter 4: Into Each Life

**Chapter 4: "Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall" – The Inkspots**

Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout or Potter.

* * *

 **POV: Morgan Le Fay, Ruins of Ilvermorny**

Her slippered feet made the barest of whispers as she followed behind the cantankerous pukwudgie, 'William'. The only other noise that defiled the darkened space was the constant grumbled complaints from the wildly hairy little man as he led her further into the desolation of the once proud school. Despite the timelock, the halls were subdued in somber shades of gray, as if bleached of all vibrancy and life.

The overbearing sense that pervaded the school was like a sepulcher at midnight, the chill matched only by the echo of conversations and laughter Morgan imagined took place in these very halls. Innumerable students lived and learned here through the years, a forlorn sigh escaping her lips at the somber thought that that time may never come again.

The darkness was dispelled only by the narrow cone of amber provided by the lantern William carried. Despite her discomfort, Morgan had no wish to conjure additional light, feeling as though such illumination would disturb the melancholy of the place. It seemed right for the school to be in mourning for what was lost.

A trickle of dust wafted from the ceiling, an answer to the deep reverberating groan which undulated down the passage like a massive serpent clearing its throat. It lent the pair haste, as Morgan lacked the art to restore a timelock once broken. William's muttering grew, an almost baleful gaze tossed back toward the witch as they walked. Morgan, despite the centuries of wisdom and power, was chagrined at the accusatory look, knowing that she was to blame for their need to hurry.

Lost as she was in her momentary pangs of guilt, she almost ran into her diminutive guide, who had stopped at a marble statue and was gazing at it in something approaching longing. Curious at the implications of a pukwudgie displaying that sort of emotion, Morgan examined the statuary. She gasped at the visage, the artistry of the rendering showing a face much like her own. It was akin to gazing into a mirror, though there were minor differences.

"Isolt, though she sometimes went by Morrigan." William stated simply.

Ah. The founder of the school. She cast a sidelong glance at the grumpy goblin-kin and surmised that he was the same 'William' of the old stories, he who had been rescued by Isolt from a Hidebehind and had in return rescued the witch and her family from being murdered by Gormlaith Gaunt. Keeping the revelation to herself, knowing that the stubborn creature would only deny it anyway, she set about to take the lovingly maintained statue, first shrinking it to the size of a doll. William bent to snatch it up and held it for a moment before snarling at the notice Morgan paid to him and shoving it into a pocket.

He moved on and Morgan followed, her mind wondering if perhaps she was related to the witch somehow. The resemblance was uncanny, a likeness that probably helped convince William to reveal himself to her in the first place.

Another groan and another shower of plaster and dust hastened their steps, until at last they stood before the massive metal doors of some kind of vault. Carvings writhed on its surface, a pantomime of the living creatures they portrayed.

"This is one of the living menageries." William explained gruffly, as he searched his numerous pockets thoughtfully, "I've maintained this place for over two centuries… work that I expect to be compensated for!" He added with a shout, waving his hand under her face for emphasis. He harrumphed as he noticed that the same hand held the very key he was looking for, and he swiftly inserted it into the suddenly visible lock and turned it with a click.

The carvings darted away, as if fleeing, toward the edges of the door as it creaked open softly on oiled hinges. A warm breeze filled with the scent of life, both plant and animal, greeted them and Morgan smiled in spite of herself. Within the vault was a wonder, a massive vaulted chamber whose ceiling was lost to an enchantment showing a startlingly blue sky, wisps of cloud decorating the impressive sky-scape.

Several other pukwudgies looked up at the intrusion and with an almost choreographed muttered curse, bent back to their work. William led the way over a stone bridge that granted passage over a swiftly flowing stream, the black waters parting to show the curious eyes and glistening ivory crown of a horned serpent. Thunder pealed across the sky as a thunderbird flew overhead, wheeling on massive wings before settling on artfully crafted outcropping of stone.

Morgan felt a nudge and she turned to run a hand over the glistening coat of a gaunt thestral, who had approached her curiously. As they continued through the menagerie, a phoenix regarded her impassively as it perched on a small tree. Morgan committed herself then and there, if she saved nothing else from the school, she would find a way to safeguard these remnants of a more glorious age.

She mentally catalogued every creature she saw, planning out the necessary charms that would be needed to keep them safe and secure when they would eventually depart. An alarmed yet muffled cry erupted behind her. She whirled around, hands raised and ready to unleash her power. She lowered her hands and sighed at her manservant, who had become entangled in the tentacles of a snarfalump plant. She felt a little badly that she had completely forgotten about her lackey but shrugged it off as he was probably safest where he was. The snarfalump wasn't a carnivorous plant, merely a nuisance if one were to be foolish enough to get entangled in its sticky tentacles.

William tapped his foot impatiently, and Morgan sighed again as she picked up her skirts and hurried to his side. He led the way again through the menagerie to a door opposite the entrance. This door gave him a bit of trouble despite not having any sort of lock, as no one had presumably used the portal in some time and the wood had swelled from the moisture. With a shout of triumph, the door whooshed open and blasted the pair with dry musty air.

Coughing delicately into her handkerchief, she peered over the pukwudgie and saw a short passage with a series of doors, 3 to a side.

William spat out a glob of phlegm and indicated the passage, "Storage cupboards. Spare tools for the menagerie, a pantry with potion making ingredients, some spare wands… Take what you can."

William left her to it and began barking at the other pukwudgies in their native language. Morgan swiftly pulled on some gloves and prepared to take stock. The first cupboard had large traveling luggage cases, already enchanted with extension charms. She selected the largest one with clawed feet and directed it to follow her with a wave of her wand. She led it back to the menagerie and motioned to William, who nodded in understanding and disappeared into the trunk with his kin to prepare the interior for the menagerie.

Hours later, the increasing tremors gave the witch the unwelcome sense of panic, an emotional state that she was very unaccustomed to. She had summoned her thrall and had the poor man resembling a gypsy with the numerous colorful bags of every description hanging off his shoulders and swaying from his overburdened arms. She had emptied several storerooms filled with potion making ingredients that hadn't gone bad, seedlings, wands and piles upon piles of reference books on every subject from ancient runes to divination.

Thankfully, the pukwudgies had worked wonders on the chest and the menagerie had already been transferred to the new atrium within. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she had to physically wrench herself free with something approaching heart ache as she left the wealth of knowledge and material behind. Sweeping her thrall in her wake, she abandoned dignity and hiked up her gown to run.

The halls shuddered as the weight of the ruins above bore down on the weakened chambers deep beneath the mountain. She dared a glance back and almost moaned in dismay at her thrall falling behind, burdened by several bags that had slipped down to entangle his legs. He smiled at her sadly and redoubled his efforts to run even so impeded. She drew one of the wands she had found that allowed her, albeit reluctantly, to wield it. She made a swift slashing movement and cut the bags free from his legs. The look of gratitude on his face almost broke her, and the veneer of pride and arrogance that had always surrounded her cracked ever so slightly.

She deigned to touch the odious man, and grasped one of arms to lend him her strength, and they ran together ahead of a billowing cloud of dust. The miasma surged past them and inundated them with grey stinging particles. Nearly lost in the dark fog that choked and stung their eyes, they continued to put one foot ahead of the other and nearly toppled when they hit the bottom landing of the stairs leading up and out.

The pukwudgies huffed at the pair as they hacked and coughed the dust of ages from their lungs. One recovered, she sent the servant, not unkindly, to fetch the carriage. She considered that she would need to find a manner of address for the man, as referring to him as 'you' or 'thrall' would simply not do.

Minutes later, after William sealed shut the way back into the school, the party headed north and east toward the northern edge of the Glowing Sea. She intended to go around the ominous green storm and head east to the coast to where she thought Salem would be.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, General Atomics**

Hermione's eyes were rimmed and puffy as though she had been crying. Though it was with dry cheeks that she kept vigil over the softly breathing Jonathan as he recovered from the explosion that brought the soldier low. Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, though having spent the last several days exploring the Commonwealth together, she had to have formed some rapport with the man.

He and Daphne had kept busy by assisting Ada with disposing of the Rust Devil bodies and collecting the useable salvage from the factory itself. His attempt to lose himself in the work was failing to distract him from the niggling sense that there was a greater threat over the horizon. He was no expert in runes, but the subtle inscriptions on the Rust Devil's armor and weapons indicated to him that some witch or wizard was involved somehow with the raider gang. This fact alone, he felt, put dealing with these raiders squarely within Salem's responsibility.

Stretching out his sore back, Harry stood back from the pile of robot armor that he had dragged together and glanced over at Daphne and Ada talking as they worked to move the last of the raiders into the bay. A ghost of a smile graced his tired face as he watched them work, his mind going back to the kiss they had shared over the walls of Salem. A twinge of guilt struck him as Ginny's face appeared in his mind for a moment… the accompanying pang of loss still fresh to him despite the intervening time.

"Ginny's been gone for centuries," he told himself, "its past time to move on."

"Hey, quit faffing around Harry!"

He turned and saw that both Daphne and Ada had approached him and were looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry, what?"

"All right?" Daphne asked, moving closer and placing her hand on his shoulder.

He set his hand atop hers almost as a reflex and pulled her in for a quick hug, the girl actually squeaking in surprise at the sudden affection.

"I'm fine, just a bit knackered I supposed."

Daphne didn't seem to quite buy his explanation, but dropped it as she led Harry back inside. The sun was setting over the Commonwealth and the wind from the Atlantic was coming in colder than usual. Ada volunteered to stand guard outside, as she neither required rest or shelter from the cold.

The pair moved through the detritus of the past battles in companionable silence, heading up to the offices of the former General Atomics employees where they had set up temporary lodging as the General recovered. They came in to see that Hermione was busy preparing something that resembled dinner, her skill in cooking being an inverse proportion to her skill at nearly everything else. She looked at the pair apologetically, Daphne and Harry quickly plastering on their most ingratiating smiles.

Hermione sighed at the pair as they both asked after what, 'smelled so good.'

She appreciated them for their lies and made room for Daphne to join her while Harry moved over to check on Jonathan.

"Oh." Harry exclaimed, "I didn't realize you were awake."

Jonathan had been busy staring at the ceiling as he lay on the dirty couch, his hands clasped behind his head as he tried not to grimace in pain as he turned to look at Harry.

"Yeah, I'd be up and about but that witch over there would have none of it. She used her wand on me." He said the last almost as a whisper, though not low enough to escape Hermione's hearing.

"And I'd do it again if you so much as twitch!" She hissed, though her anger at Jonathan was more an expression of frustration and pent up worry than actual rancor.

"I surrender!" Jonathan replied, loudly. "Can we not do this again? I'm not going anywhere and I certainly don't want to get hit with that red stuff again!"

Hermione huffed and went back to stirring her stew of what had to have been mostly made up of old socks, if the smell was any judge.

Harry chuckled despite it all and sit down in a folding metal chair next to the General.

"So… since we seem to have the time, why don't you catch us up on what's been happening with you lot?" Harry asked diplomatically, as much need to catch up as to deflate the tension.

"Sure." Jonathan hissed in pain as he shifted to look at Harry directly. "Hopefully you got my message, about the distress call I had gotten on my Pip-boy?" He lifted his arm with the aforementioned device on it for emphasis.

Harry nodded, remembering.

"Hermione and I came across a caravan with several people and robots being attacked by another group of robots. We did what we could, but the people had been killed and Ada was the only robot to survive."

He paused for a moment while collecting his thoughts.

"There is a new threat in the Commonwealth. Someone or something called, 'The Mechanist.' He is sending groups of robots out to slaughter everyone they come across, all the while broadcasting his message of bringing help to the people of the Commonwealth."

Jonathan's lips curled in disgust, "Help them into an early grave; what a sick sense of humor this guy must have."

He shook it off, "Anyway, one of those groups was responsible for killing Ada's friends. I promised to help her find this Mechanist and stop him before more innocents are killed. We came here to track down some tech carried by one of his field lieutenants, a horrifying amalgam of human and machine called a 'robo-brain'."

At Harry's confused look, he clarified, "It's a human brain mounted into a robot chassis. I can't imagine what the process would do to a person, but the one here was hostile and aggressive."

"And then it blew up, knocked me out pretty good and Hermione has been taking care of me ever since. Thanks for coming by the way, I owe all of you my life."

Harry waved the sentiment away, "We're all in this together, Jon. You'd have done the same for us."

"I would." The General stated firmly, "But thanks all the same. How is your neck of the woods?"

"Salem is doing very well. Though food is starting to become an issue now that we're growing so much. We took in a group of refugees… Vault dwellers like yourself by the looks of it. Said that they were trying to escape from some men dressed in black power armor."

Jonathan looked alarmed at the news, "A faction in power armor rooting out a Vault? That's no mean feat, those vaults are secure against a nuclear warhead."

Harry nodded grimly, "I haven't had the chance to check out their story, but I don't doubt that they've been through it."

Eager to change the subject, "On the plus side, your caravans have started to come through, if not for them, I'd have to tighten my belt by a few more notches."

"That's good to hear, having trade with you will benefit everyone. My people are already talking about moving to retake the Castle. I'm not sure we're ready just yet though, the Castle is on the opposite side of the Commonwealth from us and it'd be a real stretch to supply it through our settlements."

Harry agreed, "Better to take it nice and slow."

He cocked an eyebrow at the man, "Though I'm surprised you think that. You went from being some stranger to the General of the Minutemen and in charge of dozens, if not hundreds of people."

The unspoken question hung in the air, Jonathan clearly a bit uncomfortable at the drilling looks all three of them were fixing him with.

Hermione broke the spell, "I think I speak for everyone… we want to trust you, but it feels like you're hiding something."

Jonathan opened his mouth as if to respond then closed it, his mouth snapping shut like a steel trap. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan, Over 14 years ago**

His heart was pulsing adrenaline through his body, the trembling in his limbs and slick sweat rolling off of him was proof enough of that. A metallic clang was followed by the hiss of compressed air and just like that, the pressure door that had been closed his entire life was suddenly open. He was nearly shoved aside as his squad surged forward, the air split with howls of wrath from his brothers and sisters.

The young man in a white lab coat looked up from his terminal with shock and terror painted clearly across his face. His mouth gaped open and objects clattered to the ground as he backed away, shaking his head as if in denial. His head snapped back and a spraying jet of blood painted the ceiling crimson before his lifeless body collapsed in a heap onto the cold metal deck. Yvette's face was cold and impassive as she stepped over the man's body, the barrel of her 10mm still smoking from her snapshot. The others fanned out and secured the room, moving with the military precision that had been drilled into them since birth.

It was the height of irony that the very training and genetic breeding that the scientists had subjected them to would ultimately prove the instrument of their destruction. Despite the catatonic fear which had captured the former researcher, Jonathan found that he discovered not conjure within himself to the capacity for pity or remorse.

The next room did not prove to be more of a hindrance to their progress than their last, the trio of scientists scrambling before they were cut down with precision small arms fire. The room after displayed their righteous justice would not be easily won, as a pair of machinegun turrets swung down from the ceiling and perforated Allen with 5.56mm fire as the others dove for cover. A pressure door opened and admitted a pair of protectrons, their sturdy frames marking them as military grade models. Soon the air crackled with the sound of laser bursts and return fire as the group contested with the automatrons.

A protectron stomped forward to break the stalemate and in a moment of foolhardiness, Jonathan leapt out from his cover to grapple with the robot directly. Its bulk shielded him from turret fire, but its strength nearly saw his plan undone. With a painful twist, he freed one hand and slammed his open palm repeatedly against the glass dome of the robots head. Each thunderous strike sent ravaging arcs of pain through his limbs but he did not relent, widening the cracks on the failing dome. Fresh pain erupted as his hand plunged through the hole he created, the jagged edges of it tearing flesh from his arm. Gritting his teeth against it, he gripped the hot electronics which composed the creature's brain and yanked it hissing and sparking from the protectron.

Drawing deep of desperation and adrenaline fueled strength, he heaved the protectron into its partner, throwing it off balance and sending both clattering to the floor. Someone jerked him back just as the floor disappeared in a torrent of concentrated fire from the turrets. One exploded in a shower of metal shards, one of his squad mates using the distraction he provided to get under it and shoot straight up directly into the mechanism. The other turret swiftly followed and not wishing to get bogged down further, the troop surged up and out of the kill zone, sparing only a brief, pain-filled glance at their fallen.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, General Atomics**

He couldn't help but regard Jonathan with horror at the battles he described, the worse for it that the man was merely 15 years old when it happened. Harry couldn't conceive of a situation that led to this horrible conflict, but didn't want to disturb Jonathan's story. He rambled a bit, abandoning the story of the 'break out' to briefly describe his life before.

He had been born in the vault, but had no memory of parents. He was with a group of people the same age, other children who had all been born as if in one large batch. They were looked after by cadre, hard eyed men and women in military uniform who drove them to put everything of themselves into every task. By the time he was four, he could strip down and re-assemble any weapon and could quote historical military leaders and summarize the battles they had fought in.

Every day of their lives they were told that greatness awaited them. A grand purpose. They were told of the Great War, and how their beloved nation was even now beset on all sides by horrible mutations and terrible enemies. They were told that they had a destiny to go forth and restore the glorious republic and safeguard the lives of the innocent who still tried, and many times failed, to eke out an existence in the wastelands. They were told that they would be heroes… and what child doesn't dream of growing up to be a hero?

They believed it, all of them, and trained hard their entire lives. They looked on with envy as the graduates formed up one last time before leaving the vault, marching out to the saluting junior classman, each of them dreaming of the day they would graduate and join their brothers and sisters on their glorious mission.

It was a god damn lie.

A graduate, an older boy that Jonathan barely remembered, had told them the truth. He excelled in the sciences but his physical performance fell just short of what was needed to leave the vault with his kin. But his brilliance was needed, the scientists had told him, and so he donned the white coat and took his place among them. They revealed things slowly, never coming out and directly telling him their purpose. He found it himself, quite by accident. His particular talent was with negotiating with computer systems. He stole a few moments on the head researcher's terminal, certain that he would be praised for his ingenuity as he easily bypassed the security. Any thought of praise or reward vanished when his eyes fell upon the departmental memos and the Vault-Tec operating instructions.

"There were but three possible fates awaiting us." Jonathan whispered, almost too quietly for the trio to hear, "If we passed the trials, we would be harvested for our genetic material then killed. If we did not pass, we were killed. In the rare case of the turncoat, we would be brought into the fold as the researchers and trainers to bolster their numbers as they aged and died. None of us were going to be heroes. We were meat."

As to be expected when exposed to that kind of heart killing truth, many of the children snapped into a nearly catatonic state. Others became despondent and depressed. But for Jonathan and a large number of the others, it evoked white hot anger.

So they had escaped, the Vault that they and their forebears have lived and died in for two centuries. Vault 75, the very reason Jonathan was so bent on being the best he could be, to have that heroic destiny that fate conspired to deny him.

Harry and the others were speechless as he continued to talk, gaining some measure of his dignity as he detailed his life after the escape.

Once they reached the surface, the children could not agree on what direction to take. They had spent so long following a strict regimen, following orders to the letter in all things, that the sudden freedom they faced was more daunting than escaping the vault itself. Eventually, they coalesce around charismatic leaders among their number. Each group heading off in different directions in search of some purpose.

His group ran into their first uplanders… a group of people who were impressively also military minded, who wore uniforms and adhered to a strict code of conduct. They called themselves the Gunners. Many of the children, Jonathan included, thought that these men and women must been the remnants of the US military. They were eager to join a group who had an established presence and could give them the comfort of the military discipline they were so used to.

It was good for a time, they belonged and they could contribute for the good of the Commonwealth. However, it became apparent to even the ever optimistic Jonathan that the Gunners were far too ruthless and did not serve out of a sense of duty to the people. They were mercenaries who worked for pay and were not above bending the rules. He had left them before he lost himself as he had seen many of his own people already had done.

He wandered for a time, eventually ending up in the Capital Wasteland where he signed on with the Brotherhood of Steel, admitted under the auspices of the magnanimous Elder Owyn Lyons. Jonathan clearly looked up the man, as he smiled proudly while relating that part of his history. His demeanor changed yet again when he spoke of both the elder and his chosen heir, Sarah Lyons' death. He left shortly after, in a way, running away from his feelings yet again. He came back to the Commonwealth and decided to check in with some friends that were ostensibly still with the Gunners.

Traders eyed him strangely but pointed him the direction of Quincy, a town he had heard of but never visited.

His eyes had closed again and it seemed as though grief and fury waged war within him, his face ticking with the conflicting emotions roiling in his heart.

"They had taken the town. Put its people to the sword and set themselves up as lords of a new fiefdom. They welcomed me, talked to me about how glorious taking the town had been. I was horrified to hear my friends, my comrades speak that way. I told them that they were traitors. They didn't care for that, being reminded of who we once were, who we were promised to be. They argued that as the betrayed, they had a right to forge a new destiny and to hell with those stupid lies. I left… and told them that the next time we meet, I will kill them."

As if eager to wrap up his tale, Jonathan rushed the rest of his tale in a single breath, expelling the words as if divesting himself of a great weight. He rescued the Frosts from some raiders and helped them relocate to a place they had heard about, called Sanctuary. The rest, as they say, is history.

He fell quiet, and Harry couldn't blame him one bit. He saw the life seemed to ebb from the man as his story unfolded until its end, leaving him a tired husk laying listlessly on the sofa. He turned and saw the pity in Daphne's eyes and an unreadable expression in Hermiones'.

The stew was ruined, their attention riveted to Jon's story led Hermione to neglect stirring her concoction. If nothing else good came of the revelation of his history, being spared from having to eat that would be enough. Harry got up and gestured for the others to follow, leaving Jonathan alone to mull over the obviously painful memories.

They assured Ada that everything was fine when the robot queried them once they exited the factory complex. They walked for a time, strolling without destination and keeping the curious machine in sight per her request.

"That was quite the story, eh?" Daphne decided to break the silence, broaching the subject that was on all of their minds.

"Do you believe him?" Hermione murmured, trying to untangle the myriad emotions rampaging through her head.

"I do actually. It's almost too fantastic to be a simply lie. If he wanted to have us all on, then he could have come up with something far simpler than that." Harry mused aloud.

"The real question, at least to me, as how do you feel about him now?" Daphne directed that question to the brunette, who was busily chewing on her lower lip as she thought.

"There's a lot there that clicks into place. It makes sense. I don't know what about his past that made me feel so nervous around him, but hearing his story did help… a bit."

"What? A bit?" Harry asked.

She just shrugged, an apologetic smile on her face indicating that she really didn't know either.

"Are you sure you don't just have a crush on him?" Harry teased.

"What!? I do not!" Hermione huffed, her voice rising in pitch and tone with incredulity.

"Whoah! Whoah! I take it back!" Harry shouted, before Hermione could put her fists to good use punctuating how ridiculous the very idea was.

'I don't have a crush on him.' Hermione thought, '… do I?'

* * *

 **POV: Harry, the next morning**

Harry woke with a groan, stretching his arms up above his head to stretch without disturbing Daphne overmuch, who had fallen asleep in his arms. Harry couldn't help but grin, giddy at the beautiful woman whose head was resting on his chest. He glanced over and saw Jonathan grinning at him unabashedly.

They had eaten well, albeit late, after Hermione had tossed out her stew and grudgingly allowed Jonathan to prepare their dinner. Apparently, among his many skills, was the almost wizardly ability to make anything taste good, as the normally rancid and foul tasting mole rat flesh came out tasting like beef wellington. It actually reminded Harry a bit of his Aunt Petunia's cooking, on the rare occasion that he was allowed to eat with the rest of the family while the food was still hot.

They had decided, for the time being at least, to travel together. Hermione had informed them that Jonathan needed to use some equipment at the Red Rocket station just outside of Sanctuary, which he had annexed for his own use. They had obtained some technology from the robo-brain that Ada thought would provide insight into the Mechanist's whereabouts. Unfortunately, they only had the two brooms, and Ada was far too heavy to ride anyway.

They started off, heading north in a generally western bent in the hopes of keeping clear of some super mutants that Jonathan insisted were nearby. They made good time, as the dangers of the Commonwealth seemed to have better things to do that day than molest three magicals, a heavily armed super soldier and a repurposed assaultron.

Around midday, Jonathan held up a fist to stop the group, cocking his head to the side as if listening. Harry listened as well and heard the distinct chatter of not too distant gunfire and the whizz of multiple lasers. Someone was really having it out!

"I'm going to check it out." Jonathan announced, before breaking into a jog, followed quickly by Ada.

"You know, normal people run AWAY from gunshots, you twit!" Hermione shouted after him, clearly exasperated.

All Harry could do is shrug at her in apology before running off after Jonathan, drawing his wand as he went.

"Men." Daphne stated simply, before both she and Hermione hurried to catch up.

Thankfully, they arrived just as the conflict came to an end. A group of dirty looking scavengers were scowling back behind them while shouting curses at their unseen opponents. They fixed Harry and company with dirty looks, with more than a few telling the group to essentially sod off.

Paying the departing scavengers no mind, Jonathan led the way further north through the former battleground, looking for anyone that may have been hurt. He paused and stooped to wipe the dust from a polished metal plate, a plate that turned out to still be attached to a badly battered Mr. Handy.

"What's that then?" Harry asked as he came on the scene.

"Looks like a casualty. Strange that the scavvers didn't grab the scrap, lots of good parts here. In fact, I think it's reparable."

"Do you really think so sir?" Ada asked, always interested when it came to robots.

Harry watched as the man pulled a small rod-like device from his pack and gave the robots power supply a quick jolt from it.

"Hermione, could you?" Jonathan asked, as Hermione and Daphne joined them.

A quick reparo charm from Hermione, and the robot butler was functional again and expressing his abject appreciation for their intervention.

"It's so wonderful to meet friendly civilians! You really must meet Captain Ironsides! I'm sure he'd be happy to reward you for your service to this robot's navy!"

"Captain who?"

"Oh goodness! Where are my manners!? Captain Ironsides would be aggrieved that I haven't maintained proper decorum! Forgive me sirs, and ladies. I am Mr. Lookout. Not to be confused with Mr. Lookout or Mr. Lookout. Good men, though Mr. Lookout is a bit stiff with the newcomers."

Harry waved aside the robot's explanation with a confused but amused smirk, "Alright, where is this Captain Ironsides?"

"Why he's aboard ship of course."

"Ship?" Harry asked.

"Yes sir, the ship." The Mr. Lookout proudly proclaimed, pointing up.

The group gasped almost in unison, for perched on the roof of two adjacent buildings, was a three-masted wooden ship.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, USS Constitution**

Captain Ironsides proved to be every bit as mind-boggling as the ship itself, a sentry bot with a captain hat perched atop his head.

"You visit this fine vessel in trying times. Becalmed these long years on her airy perch. Damn you Weatherby Savings & Loan! I spit at you!"

Harry had been trying and failing to keep the sheer absurdity at bay and not laughing out loud. The most he could manage was to stifle the giggles he had during the conversation with the captain and crew of the USS Constitution. Jonathan went on and on about it, as apparently, pre-war history was a major subject in Vault 75.

Hermione seemed to be the only one listening to him, but only somewhat, as she examined the ancient frigate and mumbled some noncommittal response at seemingly appropriate times while he excitedly rambled.

The tone of the conservation in front of him seemed to have changed, so Harry redirected his attention to the good Captain. Daphne nudging him in the ribs had nothing to do with it. The captain seemed to be listing off a series of necessary repairs and parts that proud frigate required in order to blast off from its perch and head for open sea… Harry diplomatically declined to mention the massive gaping hole in the side that would render any landing in water a singular phenomenon.

"I think that's definitely something we can do for you, Captain." Harry replied, "In fact, Jonathan here is a whiz with machinery and the rest of us can perhaps do something to augment your ship and make it truly airborne."

"Sir! If you could do that, why… I'd be obliged to place myself and my crew at your disposal!"

An alarm suddenly blared, cutting off any subsequent reply as one of the Mr. Lookouts pointed a clawed hand out towards the Boston ruins. A high pitched whistle buzzed near Harry's ear, letting him know that someone was shooting at them.

"Enemies to port! Stand to, you scalawags and show them what for!" The Captain shouted, urging his crew.

Despite their numbers, few of the robots, save for the captain himself, were combat models. They mostly fretted about though some managed to return fire in the appropriate direction. Thankfully, not only did they have a trio of powerful magic wielders aboard, but they also had a bonafide super soldier. Hermione opened up her bag so that they could retrieve their brooms and fly off down at the attacking scavengers.

Harry and Daphne girded themselves with shielding charms and proceeded to unleash havoc on the unwitting scavengers, the robots on the frigate pausing in their frenetic activity and attempted to cogitate the mysterious abilities of the two flying people. Hermione sealed up her bag and rushed to the edge of the ship, her wand raised and her eyes alight with a fierce aspect. She blasted the buildings where the scavengers attempted to hide from Harry and Daphne's wrath, bringing crumbling buildings down on their heads.

Jonathan peered down and saw that there was a group just beneath them, attempting to stealthily enter the ship and wreak their unique brand of chaos on the lower decks. With a wink at Hermione, he vaulted the side of the ship and plummeted several yards to the broken street below. Hermione gasped as she rushed over to where he had recklessly leapt. He landed with a roll and drew his favored sidearm, a heavily modified .44 magnum with black and red flames painted onto it. Six shots, six seconds and six dead scavengers later, he gave Hermione a friendly wave and rushed off to help Harry and Daphne mop up the fleeing vagabonds.

She turned as the deck shook beneath the tread of her captain, and smiled benignly at the military-grade artillery machine. It looked down at her and somehow managed to tip its hat as if in salute.

"My word! You civilians are quite handy to have in a pinch! I must say I've never seen a human do those sorts of things before."

"That's because we're witches… or wizard in Harry's case." Hermione stated slowly, wondering what the robot's reaction would be.

"Whatever you are, you are certainly a boon to this old robot's Navy!" It proclaimed, waving its 'hands' in the air.

Harry arrived back to the astonished and excited Captain Ironsides, who proudly proclaimed that he and his crew would be proud to fight under his banner, whether the ship was repaired or not. Though they all agreed that repairing the ship would be the best use of a crew of naval minded robots.

Jonathan would make the repairs to the power cables then go to Bunker Hill to find a replacement power relay coil. Meanwhile, the others would start to research the best way to apply their magical expertise to the task of helping the Constitution fly. To that end, Hermione rummaged through her bag and produced a number of volumes that would help, one of them her own notes on the ship which brought the Durmstrang Institute students during the Triwizard tournament years ago. Though that ship didn't fly, it proved a good resource for how to enchant a ship of similar size.

The three were in good cheer, with the Captain and his crew being excellent hosts and assistants as they worked. Lights strung across the rigging lit up as the sun bid them farewell and a cold breeze announced the death of day. Ironsides offered the use of his cabin, since he couldn't fit in it anyway and the robots had no need of sleep or rest.

Though the company was pleasant and the food agreeable, Hermione couldn't help wondering how Jonathan was doing. Her pensive look was not lost on Harry or Daphne, and they couldn't resist teasing her a little about her 'crush'. Though she denied it, her vehemence at the idea seemed much more restrained than it had at the factory.

The exhausted trio finally turned in for the night, Hermione sharing the bunk with Daphne while Harry made do with a sleeping roll on the floor. He and Daphne both were kept awake however, by Hermione tossing and murmuring in her sleep. Something clearly weighed on her mind though neither of them could begin to guess what that was.

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan, Boston ruins**

It was a lovely day, which despite the context of walking over detritus of centuries of decay, actually managed to lift Jonathan's spirits as he walked purposefully back to the Constitution. The deal at Bunker Hill went well and his pack was welcomingly burdened with a suitable power relay coil. The sky was clear, no raiders or mutated beasts rose up to challenge him and he was on his way back to contribute positive change to the Commonwealth. Granted, bartering for a cylinder of coiled copper was not heroic work, though he was humble enough to be happy with even that labor.

It seemed as though his luck would hold, as the Savings and Loans building which propped up the ancient frigate came into view. He felt an odd sort of warmth spread through his cheeks as he beheld the old wooden ship, a feeling which surely had nothing to do with the grumpy brunette who awaited his return.

Well, perhaps that was being too liberal, as she surely wasn't waiting for him per se. He was lost in thought as he traversed the ruined building to enter the gaping hole in the hull. He nodded in satisfaction that several robots were in the lower hold assessing the hole, having been told in no uncertain terms that the breach must be repaired before the ship launched.

A few minutes later found the death of that good mood as an irate General looked rancorously at the Navigator, who informed him that he also required a part to complete his systems.

"I was just at Bunker Hill, you couldn't have mentioned that you needed this part beforehand?"

"Sorry sir, I wasn't informed of your departure and therefore could not seek you out to request the chip."

Jonathan replied through gritted teeth, "Alright fine, what is it that you need?"

After a terse head nod that affirmed the taciturn general's acquiescence, he headed off to make sure that there were no other requests before he left… again.

In his grumbling acrimony, he was less than ideally careful about where he was going and collided with a certain young brunette women. She yelped as she fell back and only his fast reflexes kept her from tumbling down the stairs leading below decks. He steadied a stunned Hermione, who still reeled from the collision.

She shook off her stupor and looked up at his concerned face, his arms still wrapped around her waist. She appreciated his warmth for the barest of moments before pushing him from her and summoning up a suitably angry glare. She smacked him in the arm with the heavy book she had been carrying and hurried past him in a huff, leaving the man gobsmacked. A barely stifled giggle drew his eye toward Harry and Daphne, who were sitting nearby with stacks of books piled up around their knees. He frowned at them and huffed off himself, his mood thoroughly ruined.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, aboard the USS Constitution**

They had been making good progress, the ancient vessel being very open to the magic that the three of them were pouring into the frame of the frigate. Harry had been a little worried, as he had read that objects not specifically created to carry an enchantment, or built by muggles, would be resistant to the type of magic they were trying. It reminded him a little of the Weasley's flying car, whose temperamental yet ultimately loyal behavior showcased how magic and muggle engineering could often produce interesting results.

He passed Daphne as she bent over a strut, passing her wand over it to reinforce the old wood before applying the charms that would enable the ship to defy gravity. He squeezed past unnecessarily closely, given that there was plenty of room for him, pressing himself against her soft female backside. She gasped and turned toward him, blushing when she saw that it was him and coyly wiggling her bottom as he passed. He caught Hermione's eye as he continued through the hull, her questioning eyebrow lift met with a shrug and wide grin. She smiled back, though it didn't quite meet her eyes… the worry lines marring her face clearly indicating that she wondered how her traveling companion was doing on his second run to Bunker Hill.

They had been working through the morning, suffusing the lower hull with charms designed to enable the ship to defy gravity and float as if it were made of paper. Once Jonathan completed the repairs to the guidance systems and rocket engines, the ship should have little problem cutting through the air like the jet aircraft of old. They had drawn up plans, or more specifically, Hermione drew up the plans for the series of charms that would be necessary. Her keen intellect catching onto subtle details that the he and Daphne would have missed otherwise. The inclusion of a breathable air bubble, wind shield and charms to keep the deck warm even at high altitude as examples.

Captain Ironsides had been thrilled at the changes they were making, and was looking forward to Jonathan finishing his replacements and repairs, confident that the proud girl would be taking to the skies in a matter of days. He had altered his mission from simply landing in the bay to placing his ship and crew under Harry's command. If all went well…

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan, Scavenger camp**

He knew that things had been going too well yesterday. The overly dramatic grumpiness he had experienced at being sent back to Bunker Hill was merely a prologue to the difficulties he was going to have. He had tried to barter for the guidance chip, but was told in no uncertain terms that the only one the traders there knew of belonged to the scavengers camped outside of the frigate itself and that they had thus far been unwilling to part with it, convinced it had greater value than it would otherwise imply.

He had questioned them intently, wringing every bit of information he could of any other recourse. It boiled down to two options: Falsely joining the scavengers to obtain the part only to turn on them later or to simply take it by stealth or force. Considering the reception his group had gotten from them on the first day, and that he had personally killed six of them, he doubted that the survivors would be amenable to his joining them. That left taking it by force or stealing it from under their nose. Which put him in his present predicament, looking over the scavenger stronghold and the large number of reinforcements they had received.

Their lookouts were well-placed and covered every possible avenue of approach. He was pretty good at walking soft, but he doubted that he would be able to get in and out undetected even in the best of conditions. With bright sunlight streaming in and multiple traps and turrets spaced around their complex within the ruined building, these were not the best of conditions. This was going to get messy.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, USS Constitution lower decks**

Dust wafted down around him as the ship trembled. He looked at his wand in confusion as the charm he had just used shouldn't have made the ship move like that. Maybe one of the girls? He looked around and saw that both of them were similarly perplexed and were looking to him for answers. He stood up and opened his mouth to speak when another, stronger tremor rocked the ship slightly.

"ATTENTION ON DECK! All hands to battle stations!" Came the roar of Captain Ironsides as his treads cut scuff marks on the polished wood of the deck.

The trio rushed topside, stumbling slightly as another tremor made the ship list to port very slightly. The Captain and several of his crew were standing at the starboard rail, presumably looking out over the Boston ruins. As the trio rushed to the rail to see what was happening, a jolt sent a shockwave through the deck as a massive plume of dust and smoke rose into the air. The ship listed slightly to starboard, bringing it back to an even position and throwing Daphne against the rail. Harry latched onto her waist as her head and shoulders swept over the railing, pulling her back against him and grabbing onto a belaying pin.

A rapid series of four explosions rattled through the building where the crew suspected that the scavengers were hiding out between raids. Pulling Hermione over to stand next to Daphne, Harry rushed off in a whirl. The girls looked around perplexed, yelping in consternation as he ran past them to vault over the rail, his broom in hand.

Again, Harry showcased his broom skills as he expertly mounted the broom in mid-fall and shot off toward the chaos erupting a mere two blocks over. He disillusioned himself with a simple wand wave as he approached the cloud of dust hanging over the scene. He narrowly ducked as a screaming scavenger cartwheeled through the air nearly bashing in his head with a swinging boot. Harry gaped after the man, watching as he fell in an arc to impact painfully on the rubble strewn street. He heard the mechanical whirring of some kind of turret just before another fusillade of four missile arced out from it to detonate mere yards away against the very building it was placed to defend. A black streak rushed past an open window and another scavenger was brutally tossed out, this one screaming for the few of seconds it took for him to hit the ground in a crumpled mess.

Harry couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening, so he summoned a strong wind to blow the obscuring cloud of dust away. Which turned out to be a mistake as the turret suddenly swiveled to direct the next salvo at his position. He jetted to the side and rose up before the four missiles left the turret, the eruption of fire singeing his back as he swept around the building and tried to come in from a different angle. He hovered above the scene and was amazed to see Jonathan vault out of a window and land on the pedestal that the turret was occupying. The turret turned to face him but was stopped in its tracks as the General grabbed the swinging barrel and kept it from completing its turn. It protested wildly, sparks flying from the mechanism as the General swore and heaved. Eventually, the innate strength of the man overpowered the gear assembly, the top of the turret snapping free of its base to tumble powerless from its perch. Harry could only wave numbly back as Jonathan cheerfully greeted him, the man's face a mask of blood and grime.

Harry landed a moment later, urged in by Jonathan who had apparently cleared out the encampment alone.

"Heya Harry! I'm glad you're here. You have some kind of wand waving you can do to find a guidance chip?"

Too dumbfounded to ask why, Harry did as he was bid and accio'd the device the man was after. Luckily, it was only nestled in a scavenger's pocket and not locked away in a trunk or safe as it pulled free from one of the unlucky souls laying in the dirt to fly up into his hand. He handed it over to a triumphant Jonathan who held it up with a gleaming smile, before falling headfirst into Harry, who struggled to hold up the very heavy man.

A few minutes and a stimpack later, a rejuvenated Jonathan gratefully accepted a bottle of water from Harry, swishing it around in his mouth to rid himself of the dirt he had apparently eaten sometime during his assault.

"Do me a favor, don't tell anyone about this… especially Herm…"

"Tell anyone about what? About how you are a reckless fool of a man?!" Hermione shouted as she and Daphne walked up.

Jonathan visibly paled and Harry reached out a hand to steady him, sympathy clear on his face as someone who has also been the focus of Hermione's ire.

Harry held up a hand to forestall her tirade, "The man's hurt Hermione, let's get him seen to before we grill him about what in the world all this was about."

She harrumphed but listened to Harry's advice, something that he wasn't expecting at all. He stepped back in surprise as Hermione came up and took the General's arm over her shoulder and helped support him as they walked back to the ship. He shrugged at Daphne who only smiled at him in a way that said, 'Woman stuff, you wouldn't understand.'

A few hours and a hearty meal later, Jonathan regaled them with the tale of his exploits, the story punctuated by shocked and less than cordial responses from Hermione. Harry was concerned at the somewhat reckless behavior the man exhibited. Though he had been bred specifically to be the ultimate expression of humanity, that didn't make him bullet proof. Notwithstanding his importance to the hundreds of settlers and scores of minutemen who fell under his command, Harry considered him to be a friend and he never did find a way to be comfortable with friends putting themselves in harm's way.

"Why are you so thick!" Hermione shouted at last, "You could have come back and gotten the rest of us, me at least! I would've helped you!"

As if bursting from a long beleaguered dam, Jon exploded, "Because I don't want you to get hurt! I couldn't bear it!"

Harry looked away as he spotted what looked like moisture gathering in the General's eyes. The man had faced nearly unsurmountable odds and had always come out on top. To see him so undone within moments by a woman almost half his weight and standing a mere 5'5" was disconcerting. He felt more than saw the General rise to his feet and walk off, his footfalls soft and shuffling against the wood as if ashamed of his outburst.

Harry reached out to restrain Hermione as she rose, "Best to let him go for a bit. Talk to him when he calms down."

Hermione nodded and plopped back down next to him, absently staring into the small fire they had lit in the portable grill to stave off the chill of the deepening night.

The opportunity for them to talk didn't come that night, as Harry pushed the girls into helping him finish their work. Now that Jonathan was able to get the guidance chip, they were nearly ready. Harry witnessed the defeated slump in the General's shoulders as he made his report to the Captain, only to be told that there was not one, but two more parts that were needed.

Harry rushed over before the General had a chance to leave, "What parts do you still need Captain?"

Harry held up a hand to shush the tired man before he could interject.

"As I was telling the General here, Mr. Navigator informs me that the old girl needs a new radar transmitter and the Bosun has reported me that the FLL3 turbopump bearings have disintegrated and need to be replaced. All systems are go for launch! As soon as these parts are replaced and the modifications you are making are complete, that is."

"Jonathan, Daphne and I will get the parts. Hermione can finish up the on the runes and you can supervise the repair of the hole in the hull."

At that point, all the robots had managed to do was to make the hole bigger, but at least the edges were smoothed out.

Jonathan made out to argue the point, but quieted with a nod when Harry explained that he needed to see to the shambles he and Hermione had made of their working relationship. Or just give her a good snogging and get it over it.

Once Harry explained what snogging was, Jonathan almost looked gutted. He sputtered and protested until Harry shut him up, "Oh come off it mate. You fancy her, she fancies you. Stop faffing around and get to it or shut up about it. Either way, just get on!"

Harry walked off, triumphant at what he thought was the perfect solution to the micro-drama between the two. Daphne even agreed, which made it as good as done as far as Harry was concerned. They cleared things with Hermione before setting off to find the transmitter at some place called Poseidon Energy Turbine 18-F then to find the bearings… which surprisingly was rumored to be at the very General Atomics Factory they had already cleared.

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan, USS Constitution**

It took the better part of that day and most of the next before he worked up the courage to confront Hermione.

He found her in the captain's cabin, her hair constantly falling over her face as she bent over a book in her lap, her lips moving silently in thought. She brushed it back and he couldn't help but to stop and stare, whatever words that he had prepared dying in his throat. He shifted as she turned her head to the side, her face momentarily lost behind her unruly mop of hair. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight and her head snapped up at the noise, Jonathan spluttering as he found himself in her intense gaze.

"I, uh… just wanted to apologize. For my outburst. I didn't mean to imply that you weren't capable or anything. I, hell… I'm not sure what I was trying to say then."

"It doesn't sound like you are sure about what you're trying to say now." She said softly.

He cleared his throat and tried to find his bearing, "I just meant that I'm sorry and that I am glad to have you with me. I hope that we can continue on as before, I'd hate to lose you… er, as part of my team."

"Your team?" She whispered, her tone of regret completely missed by the nervous man.

"Yes. You are an amazing witch and I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it's been having you with me. We make a great team. We can do a lot for our communities by working together. I just hope that you can overlook my immature outburst and find it in your heart to forgive me."

The silence that hung between them was pregnant with the tension of things left unsaid. Both of them certain that the burgeoning feelings they had were unrequited by the other.

Hermione nodded slowly, "Of course. We should keep working together. After all, we still have to stop the Mechanist." She laughed awkwardly, hoping that her voice wouldn't break.

He laughed in answer, his equally forced and nervous, "You're right. I'll… leave you to your… reading. I'm glad we had this talk, and… thank you."

He left, not quite in a hurry though his heart was pounding as he shut the door behind him. He stopped and rested his head against the door, cursing himself for his cowardice.

On the other side of the door, Hermione let the book fall from nerveless fingers and sat back as a resigned sadness swam in her soft brown eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sorry that this update took so long to come out. Between finals and the holidays, there was little time to indulge in my favorite pastime. Since it had been so long since my last update, I can only hope that the tone of this update isn't too far off from what you are used to. I think I may have given too much attention to Jonathan's POV but there won't be too many more like that. More than anything, I wanted to firmly establish some background for my major OC character. Not saying that he won't have some major roles, but aside from this chapter, the bulk of future updates will focus on Harry. The next update will not take as long as this one, so look for something in a couple of weeks. I am still dividing my time between this fic and my, 'Fall of Phaeton' storyline. Please read and review. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 5: Good Rockin Tonight

**Chapter 5: Good Rockin Tonight – Roy Brown and His Mighty Men**

 _Disclaimer: Not for profit, just for fun. Please enjoy, review and don't sue_

* * *

 **POV: Rust Devil, Somewhere in the Glowing Sea**

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Randy cursed the foul luck that had him draw the short straw. One did not lightly deliver bad news to the man in black, whose mercurial temper was notoriously fickle even to a raider gang. His footfalls began to echo against hard stone as he descended further into their enclave.

He tried, he really did.

'Keep your eyes down,' the others had said.

'Don't look and possibly shit yourself before you get to him,' they said.

Despite it all, the fascination with the grotesque raised his eyes to the guardian standing vigil outside the master's chamber.

"Hello Gustav." He murmured, unsure of what else to say.

A weak whimper was his reply, as the man once known as Gustav stirred and moved to open the gate for him. Every movement drew hisses of pain from the once proud raider boss and Randy couldn't help but stare in slack jawed immobility at the spectacle before him.

Gustav was held up in the pose most commonly associated with crucifixion. The stumps of his arms and legs were bound within the Penitent Engine and the numerous brass hooks piercing his ravaged flesh ensured that his connection with the massive war robot was an intimate as well as an excruciating one. His eyes and mouth had been sewn shut with tightly wound tin wire and several translucent tubes snaked around and through his body, either giving him nutrients or taking away the waste.

Randy had been told the stories that Gustav had doubted that the man in black had the strength to back up his rule. Gustav had believed that their leader ruled through fear because bravado and an overactive imagination were all that he had. Gustav was loud, big and mean. Everything that a raider boss needed to be, while the man in black was quiet, thin and eccentric. Look at him now, a tortured soul bound to serve for as long as his body last while being slowly torn apart by the Penitent Engine.

Randy shuddered as the mighty brass doors opened with a screech that he heard down to his very soul. The door itself drew his attention, remembering when it had been made. He was there for that, when the master had paralyzed a group of settlers and had them contorted into a rectangular shape while molten bronze was carefully poured over them. They could still feel pain, he was sure of it. Though they couldn't move or speak, he could see the anguish in their eyes before they were covered with the glittering molten metal.

Randy reached out and ran his fingers over the captured image of a young girl, the youth beneath the cold metal long since dead. He briefly considered turning back, lying to his fellows that he had done the work, had delivered the message. But the man in black would know. And he was not the forgiving type.

He swallowed as he entered the chamber, the moaning menagerie within stealing what nerve he had and making every step toward his master a stilted caricature, as if he were a witless puppet. His eyes glimpsed heresies of flesh on display all around him, dull-eyed slave women, with parts of their bodies replaced with crude machinery. Living faces were set into the walls, eyes darting about and tongues dangling from swollen mouths as they sang of their misery for the master's pleasure.

He winced as his foot squelched beneath him, the floor made up of headless bodies who, disturbingly, still writhed and shuddered. Robot butlers smiled at him, their upper bodies draped with the skin of the living in a crude attempt to make them appear more human.

The man in black appeared feverish, his pale skin beaded with sweat as he stared at Randy so intently that the raider felt as though he was being dissected. Thick black cloth obscured his body, which Randy knew was as gaunt and emaciated as the rest of him. His once full brown hair was more gray now, lank and greasy. His beard was the only thing about him that spoke of a vigorous man, lustrous and full.

"Jeremiah. The group sent to the General Atomics Factory has failed. Their bodies were disposed of and their equipment taken. We don't know who…" Randy paused as the man in black held up a hand. He stood up, moving past three female slaves bound to his throne to approach Randy directly. Randy tried to not look down on him, hunching down so that he was just below eye level to the mad sorcerer.

Randy tried not to flinch or shudder as Jeremiah ran his hand over his shoulder, a comforting gesture from most perverted into a creepy and terrifying one from Jeremiah. Randy was pulled along gently toward a pool of viscous black fluid in a white marble basin set into the floor. The wizard drew his wand and murmured over the pool for a few moments before raising Randy's arm to hover over the undulating liquid. Randy hissed as a white hot lance of pain seared his palm, the jagged edge of Jeremiah's knife glistening with ruby droplets as the mad wizard held his arm so that the drops of his blood would land in the pool.

"Thank you, Randy." Jeremiah murmured as he bent over the pool intently.

Randy mumbled the appropriate courtesy and clutched his wounded hand as he looked over the man's shoulder into the pool. An image appeared in the center, as if the oily black was a mist that obscured the liquid's true nature and even now withdrew at Jeremiah's power. He recognized the General Atomics Factory, though little could be seen of the aftermath of the Rust Devils who had been sent to retrieve technology from it.

Jeremiah shrugged and straightened, nearly turning away when he heard Randy gasp. For in the image, Randy saw a young dark haired man fly in on a broom and land in front of the factory! Jeremiah's attention snapped back in time to see his companion, a pretty blonde woman, likewise land from her broom. Randy could almost see the glee bubbling up from within the wizard's lanky frame.

The raider stepped back, disconcerted as Jeremiah actually capered, turning about and humming to himself in true pleasure.

"Randy! This is wonderful! More magicals have come! And look! Isn't she a pretty one? And young too! She has many years of childbearing before her! We must dispatch teams at once, Randy! At once!"

Randy took a deep breath before answering, "Sir, we may not have the people to get that done. We've been bloodied against this Mechanist person and it looks like the Minutemen are on the rise again."

"CRUCIO!"

Randy screamed and fell as red lightning arced over his body and clawed his nerves raw. His back arched and his feet drummed against the writhing carpet of flesh as he screamed his throat raw.

Suddenly, the pain stopped and Randy could think again, the vestiges of his agony enough to make him curl up in the fetal position. He felt a strong hand pull him up and looked at the surprisingly strong grip of Jeremiah on him.

"I'm so sorry, Randy. I lost my temper there for a moment. I know it isn't your fault. There there. Oh look, you've shit yourself. No No! Don't worry, my butlers will clean that up."

Randy shivered and tried not to cry in front of the wizard, the pain and terror he felt thoroughly unmanning him before this thin wretch of a human.

"Continue our recruitment efforts in the Commonwealth and some of the squib children will soon be old enough to join you in the field. In the meantime, I want you to hire a detachment of Gunners to perform some kidnapping missions for us. Bleed them against these Minutemen and try to get some of their settlers for slaves. Ramp up production at Hagen and tell Ivey to send some of those eyebots she's been toying with to find that wizard and witch."

Here Jeremiah paused running his tongue over thin lips, a small drop of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, "I want them very much Randy. You do understand that yes? You won't be like these others who fail to get me what I want, will you? That's a good boy. You can go now."

Randy resisted the urge to haul ass as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his balls. He bowed to the wizard, who apparently had already forgotten all about him and was eyeing one of the women he had chained up to his throne. Randy's path took him past her and all he could do was look down in sympathy at the honey blonde hair and green eyes of a once great beauty.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, USS Constitution**

Harry and Daphne landed softly on the deck of the USS Constitution and saw Jonathan looking out over the rail of the old frigate, admiring the clear blue sky and relative calm of the Boston area. Ironsides swiveled its head to regard them and rumbled forward to greet them, its cogged wheels grinding fresh divets in the polished wood deck. One of the Mr. Handy's sighed dramatically as it hovered in the captain's wake and began to buff out the scuff marks.

"Salutations, Admiral Potter!" The captain greeted.

Harry grinned and whipped up what he thought was a proper naval salute. It appeared to satisfy the old robot, for it raised one of its arms in its best imitation of a return salute.

"How did the requisitioning proceed sir? There were no problems I trust?" The robot asked.

"None at all, Captain. Daphne and I retrieved both parts. If the General is ready, we can get these put in right away."

"Excellent! This old girl will get back into the action soon enough! Master Bosun! See to it these parts make it to the General. Ask him to get them installed straight-away!"

The Bosun trundled forward and accepted the parts from Harry, then moved off to join Jonathan at the rail.

"Captain, where is Hermione?" Daphne asked, looking around for the brunette witch.

"Below decks, ma'am. Overseeing the last of the… whatever it is you fine folks were doing."

Harry led the way as the two of them went in search of Hermione, eagerness putting a playful bounce in their step.

They found her bent over near the keel, retracing one of the runes there and consulting her notes.

"Lilith would be better at this, but I suppose it'll do." She murmured.

Harry cleared his throat so as to not startle Hermione, who stood up and offered the pair a small smile in greeting.

"I'm glad you're back. I think we're just about ready on our end. Everything go alright?"

"Oh yeah, it was quite easy really. A quick dash and grab and here we are. How's Jon getting on? Is he ready?"

"I don't know." The simple declarative from Hermione indicated that was all she had to say on the subject. She turned back to her work but was stopped short when Daphne placed her hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione? You alright?" Daphne asked, concern etching her features.

"Why wouldn't it be? Everything is bloody perfect."

Harry was thoroughly confused, "Um, Hermione, didn't you and Jon have a talk while we were away?"

"Yes, we talked. Or rather he talked and I happen to agree. It'll be nice to get back to a professional relationship. No fuss." Hermione stated tersely, her jaw set evenly.

"Oh Hermione…" Daphne began.

"I'm alright, really. I mean what did any of expect to happen anyway? I'm not even sure how I felt and clearly he has no feelings for me, so this works out! Let's get to work, shall we?"

She moved off brusquely, inviting no reply.

All Harry could do was to look after her sadly when he felt Daphne step in close to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer.

"She took Ron's death very hard. They didn't really have much time once they finally got around to admitting their feelings for one another. Now that she is finally ready to move on, she finds herself in another situation with someone who confuses her as much as Ron did." Harry mused aloud, feeling Daphne nodding beside him.

"Is it wrong that I want to box that man's ears?" Daphne said, with no small degree of rancor in her voice.

"Maybe we were wrong Daphne. We can't force it just because we want the best for Hermione."

"I suppose you're right." She admitted, "There's nothing for it but to be there for Hermione. Let's help her finish up."

Kissing the top of her head, Harry agreed and the pair joined Hermione in checking over the runes dotted throughout the inner hull of the frigate. Once Jonathan completed the installation of the parts, they should be ready to attempt their flight. Harry prepared a few charms just in case their flight didn't go well, a move mirrored by the witches when they noticed what he was doing.

Hours later, a very greasy Jon emerged from below decks, nursing his hand tenderly as he approached the trio.

"You alright?" Harry asked.

"This is nothing, I got a little jolt when I discharged the capacitor bank by accident. But better my hand than the guidance chip. It would have fried it and then we'd have to find another one."

Jon glanced over at Hermione and offered her a friendly smile, to which she stared back blankly and turned to walk away. His face fell ever so slightly before he turned back to Harry.

"So, are we all set then?"

"I think we are. I'll let the captain know. You lot get into position."

Jonathan and Daphne nodded and moved off, Jonathan to the stern towards the auxiliary power coupling and Daphne to the main mast, to better stabilize the vessel if needed. Hermione was at the helm, ready to adjust the charms they had put in place to keep the ship from falling apart and to give them a breathable bubble of air.

"Captain! We're all set. Ready to commence launch." Harry told the robot, unable to keep the excitement down.

"Excellent sir! Please give the word!"

"The word is given. Launch!"

* * *

Paul cursed under his breath as he tried to sort through the mess that was left of his encampment. He had told the others that they should forget about the old ship and move on to other wrecks for salvage, but no. Those greedy bastards had insisted that the haul was worth the danger.

He had walked back from Bunker Hill with Larry and Michaela, trading in some of the salvage for food and more smokes to find their little fortress in utter ruin. He bent down to wipe away the dust covering Rafaela's cold face when a whole calvacade of plaster fell from the remnants of the ruin. He looked up curiously, his eyes widening in alarm as the few remaining walls swayed ominously. He felt more than heard the rumbling, like a distant stampede which sounded like it was getting closer.

He rushed out from under the ruin, gathering the others with him. They stopped short at the sight which greeted them, as a massive plume of fire and smoke belched from the rockets on the frigate. The buildings the ship had rested on for years teetered precariously as the ancient ship groaned and slowly lifted up off of the building.

Like a yoked beast yearning to be free, it slipped the leash gravity held on it and rocketed up into the sky like a rocket! The three of them gasped in unison as the ship slowed then halted its ascent, before tilting ominously in the sky before plummeting back to earth. His legs refused to answer his call to run like hell as thousands of tons of wood and metal came hurtling toward them. It teetered and wobbled as it fell, frantic movement all over its deck like ants whose antenna had been ripped off.

It straightened and began to pull up in a gentle curve, the blast of wind from its passage knocking the trio onto their bottoms. Paul twisted as he lay prone, sitting up and gaping after the soaring frigate as it powered away through the air like a stately swan gliding across a clear pond. He thought he heard the fading echoes of someone whooping with joy, a sentiment he could almost empathize with.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, USS Constitution**

He found Jon flapping against the hull of the ship, the ropes he hastily tied around his waist having done their work to keep him from falling to his death. The man had leapt over the side when the rockets sputtered out, using the momentum from his swing to deliver a solid kick to the hot metal. Apparently, his mechanical instinct rang true, for the rockets restarted and gave them the thrust they needed to pull out of their uncontrolled tumble through the air. He Leviosa'd the poor man, Jon flopping back onto the deck spread-eagled and apparently happy to stay there for the time being.

Hermione and Daphne had scrambled to balance the flying charms they had cast, having Harry run below decks like a madman shifting runes about to help their efforts. Finally, their efforts were rewarded, as the ship now flew smoothly under power with the proud Captain Ironsides at the helm.

"You are as good as your word Admiral Potter! What's our course?"

"Northwest, Captain. We are taking Hermione and the General to his home near Sanctuary Hills. We'll moor there for a time while we get our bearings."

"Affirmative sir! We're under way!"

The journey to Red Rocket, the small settlement that the General had taken as his personal homestead, was only slightly longer than it would have taken by broom. Harry was satisfied with that, knowing that the ability to fly around the Commonwealth in a vessel capable of carrying multiple people and supplies would be invaluable. He pondered if George and Walt would be able to modify some of the other ships moored at Salem similarly, providing them with a small fleet of boats to travel the Commonwealth safely. He would have to talk to Lilith, as the materials needed to draw the runes would be rare, Hermione depleting even her considerable stockpile to enchant the Constitution.

The sun was a few hours from setting when the ship tacked in next to the rocket atop the service station. It was the first time Harry had seen the General's home and was impressed with what he had done.

Using the service station as a sort of framework, Jon had built a solid blockhouse on top of the old building and had walled in the overhang areas. There were numerous guard towers and automated turrets of multiple types, though Harry only saw Codsworth and Dogmeat roaming the grounds. He waved down at the robot butler as the machine paused in its work and raised one its arms in greetings.

Jon tossed a mooring line and managed to wrap it around the rocket. Several robot crewmen pulled and brought the ship hovering close enough that they could climb down onto the balcony he had built facing the rocket.

"I imagine we'll stay the night Captain. Please make sure we are ready to head out in the morning." Harry asked, as he walked toward the lowering rope ladder.

"Will do sir!" The captain agreed, barking orders to his crew to secure the ship.

Jon led the way down, stopping at the bottom to hold the dangling ladder still while the others followed, Harry first, then Daphne. Hermione hesitated a moment before climbing down herself, her foot slipping as she neared the bottom.

Jon was on her in a flash, catching hold of her upper thighs and catching her upper body against his as she let go of the ladder in surprise. He set her down and apologized profusely, his face almost as red as hers.

They both turned to see Harry and Daphne looking at them, their eyebrows raised questioningly.

"My foot slipped." Hermione mumbled.

Harry shook his head that this charade was going to continue awhile longer. He followed behind as Jonathan led them into the stark concrete bulwark that was his home.

Harry was astounded at the interior, as it appeared to be lifted from the pages of some pre-war home and garden magazine. It was a remarkably clean and open space. The floor was a rich polished wood of multiple types, with a variety of rugs scattered about to lend the space warmth. Though concrete, the walls were covered in a variety of posters and paintings. A metal staircase led up to a second floor, which appeared to be a balcony which wrapped three quarters of the way around the room. The ceiling was made of scintillated glass, which made the warm sunlight dance in waves on the floor. Several comfortable looking couches took up space on the lower level, with a corner cordoned off for a small dining area and kitchen. Surprisingly, a working refrigerator hummed next to a wood burning stove, with a large canister of natural gas to provide heat when the wood was scarce.

Harry glanced up at the upper balcony at what he had thought were a series of metal statues. He looked again and realized that Jon apparently collected suits of power armor, as there were several of different models and paintjobs. Wall mounted racks were festooned with the instruments of warfare, weapons of every size and description. Jon seems to collect quite a few spoils from his adventures; Harry shuddered to think that it was likely that every weapon was taken from someone Jon had killed.

"You can make yourselves comfortable, or wander around as much as you like. I'm going down to my workshop and build the robot workbench." He held the blueprints provided by Ada in his hands.

"Is there anything we can do while you work?" Harry asked diplomatically.

"Um… you can find a way to get Ada down from the ship." Jon mused.

They had left her aboard ship, forgetting that her clunky legs would not be able to navigate down a rope ladder with anyone approaching ease or grace.

Harry had the grace to blush a little with chagrin at forgetting about the kindly robot, "Of course. See you later."

Once they leviosa'd Ada down, and directed her to join Jon in the workshop on the ground floor, Harry and the girls wandered the small settlement, remarking to one another how much attention to detail Jon paid and how long it must have taken him to build it with his own two hands.

"Well I say, it is a pleasure to see you all again!" Codsworth exclaimed, as he rounded the corner and halted just in front of them. Dogmeat was on the robot's 'heels' and ran up to the trio, tail wagging with vigor as he frolicked happily among them, nearly knocking the three down in turn as she leapt from one to another.

"Hello, Codsworth. It's good to see you again. Though I am surprised you're here and not at Sanctuary," Harry wondered aloud.

"Yes well, a lovely family settled into Mr. Nate and Mrs. Nora's home and though I would have been fine with helping look after their little ones, Mr. Jonathan asked me to look after his home and his furry friend cavorting there. Mr. Jonathan is a dear friend and I was happy to lend him a hand."

"Ah, that explains it then. How have you been?"

"Oh it's been wonderful sir! I get to talk with the travelers to and from Sanctuary Hills and keeping the homestead clean is a full time occupation. Mr. Jonathan was good enough to clean two hundred years of grime from my circuits and by golly I feel like I just rolled off the assembly line!"

Harry noticed that Codsworth was in fact in much better shape than when he last visited. His frame gleamed and his well-greased arms moved much more smoothly.

"I noticed. You look good Codsworth."

"Why thank you sir. Is there anything I can do for you? I'm happy to be of service!"

Harry smiled, "Not just now, thanks Codsworth."

They moved along, the butler humming happily as he used a broom to sweep away the minute amount of dirt that had settled on the sidewalk along the back of the station. Dogmeat stayed with them, apparently preferring the company of living people to robots.

As they walked, a welcome sight came upon them in the form of the purposeful stride of one Preston Garvey. He was accompanied by a grinning Jun and Marcy Long, both of them looking very professional in their minuteman regalia.

Preston's smile was wide and warm, his eyes twinkling as he strode over and clasped Harry hand in a firm handshake. The three Minutemen forgot their bearing for a moment as glad smiles and warm hugs were shared all around.

"It's great to see you! To be honest, I had a feeling one of you folks would be here." Preston explained.

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

In answer, Preston gestured to the frigate in whose shadow they all stood.

"Oh, right."

"Preston!" Jonathan shouted as he walked out from his workshop, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

"General, sir!" Preston replied, hurrying forward to clasp hands with his friend and superior.

"Jun? Marcy? You two look great!" Jon fretted over them, smiling at how much better they both looked.

In the hub bub, the group nearly missed Luna drifting in like a zephyr, her distant smile and pale skin unchanged from when they had seen her last.

"Hello Harry. Hello Daphne. Hello Hermione. It is nice to see you."

The airy witch was accompanied by her warder, a tough as nails black woman named Soleil. It was a fitting irony, a witch named for the moon protected by a warrior woman named for the sun. She would have been quite beautiful if not for the constant scowl which marred her face. No one doubted that she was suffused with deadly grace, her tall and lithe body well-toned by a life of battle. She stared dispassionately at the group, which from her was the equivalent to a warm welcome.

Luna wafted by them to stand in front of Jon. She stared up at him intently, conjuring a confused look from the tall General. She stood up on her toes and planted a light kiss on his surprised lips, smiling ever so slightly.

"I was just curious what kind of person a certain witch would fall in love with."

Jon gaped as everyone else shifted uncomfortably. Luna seemed not to notice, shifting her attention to the dog and speaking to it as if it were an old friend.

Just as the group seemed to recover from the strange little witch's actions, Soleil walked up to Jon and grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss… though very much NOT like the one Luna gave him.

She broke off, leaving him gasping and simply stated, "Me too."

The tension was broken when Preston broke out in hearty laughter, tears streaming down his face at the consternation on the General's face. Soon, everyone was laughing along with two notable exceptions.

Harry noted that Hermione wasn't laughing and neither was Jon, who for his part, looked absolutely mortified.

"Okay… let's all go inside. Preston, I'd like a report please." Jonathan pleaded, desperate to change the subject.

Like herding cats, Harry helped to get everyone back inside and upstairs in Jon's dining room. Codsworth pulled over some extra chairs for them and buzzed off to the stove to prepare some coffee and tea.

Harry turned to Luna, "I didn't expect to see you here, Luna. Visiting Sanctuary?"

"Oh I like to visit with Mama Murphy, she has very interesting things to say. I was also helping them finish up the walls now that they found a large supply of stone."

"You don't know how much we appreciate that Luna." Preston added, drawing a smile from the pale witch, "For my part, I just returned from Salem. Everything looks good there. I've sent word to the provisioners to adjust their routes to include Salem, so now you folks should be seeing regular caravans."

"That's great, Preston."

Harry was pleased, with the constant flow of supplies and commerce that the caravans represented, Salem could really begin to flourish.

"Also, I brought an owl with me in case you wanted to send word to Salem, Harry." Preston added, drawing the aforementioned mechanical wonder from his satchel.

"Oh brilliant, I appreciate that."

Preston waved away his thanks, "They're yours anyway and they've been a blessing. We recently found out that the owls can find individuals once they've met them anywhere they might be. Helped us find a caravan that was scattered after an attack. Make no mistake, this little guy has saved lives."

As if it understood the praise, the owl puffed up its chest and flapped its metallic wings.

Harry and the others laughed at that, as he reached forward to gently stroke the owl's 'plumage'. It reminded him so much of Hedwig, he reminisced sadly.

Preston went on to brief the General the status of the Minutemen and the settlements under their protection. Harry listened with interest as he laid out specifics. Preston was quite the adjutant, as he seemingly recalled details of each settlement perfectly.

"Sanctuary is currently populated with 97 civilians and has a detachment of 16 minutemen at all times. Sturges has been chosen by the families as the de facto Mayor, so the day to day running is up to him now. He set up shops to continue fabricating turret and console pieces for the other settlements. They are producing a surplus of food and water."

He gratefully accepted the offered cup of coffee from Codsworth as he continued.

"Blake Abernathy is of course Mayor of Abernathy farms. They are up to 76 civilians and we have 12 minutemen assigned there. They've expanded the boundaries of the settlement to extend to the creek to the north and south to the road. They now have a vibrant herd of both radstags and Brahmin and grow enough crops to feed the remaining settlements twice over. Traders have been coming in from Bunker Hill and Diamond City to barter for some, though Blake has been deferring the decision until he talks to the other Mayors."

"That's very magnanimous of him." Jon interjected, "He's a good man and he probably doesn't want to make a decision that affects everyone else without their say."

"He does owe the prosperity of his settlement on the Minutemen, specifically you, General." Preston added, Marcy and Jun nodding emphatically.

Jon tried to hide his scowl at Preston's continued 'hero worship'. How badly had the Sole Survivor let them down that they would turn to him? He hoped that he wouldn't let them down before he found a way to shift the credit to those it really belonged to: the men and women like Preston, Marcy and Jun.

"Sunshine has reported that they've seen some unusual raider movement near them, though they haven't molested the settlement itself. I sent another squad of Minutemen, bringing them up to 12 total. They are up to 59 settlers, Mary Elizabeth just had her baby. They are focusing on growing razorgrain and have started to repair the silos to hold grain. They've also begun to brew their own beer, I've had some, quite good. Should be able to compete with those raiders at Beantown before long."

"I wouldn't mind trying some." Jon remarked.

Preston nodded and made a note, "Starlight has built up enough stone to start work on their walls, just waiting for one of Harry's people to be free to give them a hand. It's quite busy there, the large open space is a magnet for trade caravans. It's turning into a second Bunker Hill. There are almost 200 settlers there now, they grow some food, but they aren't self-sufficient, they depend pretty heavily on the trade they get from the other settlements."

"Let's see, Tenpines is much better now that we've cleared out those raiders at Zimonja. We're turning it into a training ground for our recruits. Tenpines is providing most of the lumber for the other settlements and at last count had 36 people living there."

"How's Greygarden and Oberland doing?" Jon asked, as those were the last two settlements he had personally brought into the fold before he ran off to adventure with a certain witch…

"Progress at Oberland is still pretty preliminary. Once you took care of those super mutants across the lake from them, the pressure's been off but there's not a lot there to support a large group right now. I've stationed a squad of 6 there, the girls there seemed happy enough having young men around."

The girls there, two fairly young women, had been eking out an existence by themselves. A strong testament to their stubborn courage. They had danced on the threshold of annihilation with super mutants so close, but now were free to grow.

"Greygarden is really something. Latest word is that our boys fought off a group of those Rust Devils that have plaguing the Commonwealth lately. The robots there were very grateful for our protection and have offered their produce almost for free. No other settlers aside from the robots live there though, I just have the squad of 6 minutemen building up a sort of HQ for our operations there."

Harry was impressed at the strides the Minutemen had made, with hundreds of people now living happily under their sky blue banner. He hoped that someday Salem would enjoy similar success, in fact, he had specific thoughts in that regard already.

He excused himself, taking up the owl to find a quiet corner to write. He sat down and pulled a magical quill from his pack, pondering what he wanted to say.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Daphne's voice interrupted his musing, delightedly so.

His smile grew as she plopped down into his lap, pulling the parchment that he had been idly tapping…

"What is this, some kind of code?" She teased.

"Haha. I'm just trying to think about everything that needs to be done back home. Salem is getting a little crowded with all those refugees from the vault and listening to Preston's report has me thinking that we should expand too."

"Oh?" Daphne prompted.

"Susan checked out that place near the fish cannery. Some kind of coastal cottage. That would be perfect for a few families to settle. I'd like for her to go to Starlight and see about getting some of the materials we'd need to get it started. We can repair the existing house, but I'd like at least 3 more surrounded by decent walls."

"I'm curious, surely we can find room for everyone in Salem. Why expand?"

Harry thought for a moment before replying, "I think we're more vulnerable if we are all in one place. Spreading our people out a little will give us flexibility in case any of the settlements come under some kind of threat. Plus, in some ways, I'd like to have a space that is welcoming for magicals, if ever we find any."

"Seems like we've almost abandoned the idea of finding any, like that girl… Cait was it?"

"Yes. I did ask Nick to look into it for me, but you're right. I need to put that as a priority again now that we're more secure at home."

"Did anyone think to check on those refugees?" Daphne wondered aloud.

"Oh I'm so thick!" Harry exclaimed, "I didn't even think of that! I'll write a note to Lilith to have her subtly check, it's not probable but better to check."

Harry, his thoughts now ordered, set his quill to parchment and began to scratch a message to Salem. Daphne smiled as he concentrated, running a hand through his hair as he wrote.

"If you keep doing that I'll forget all about what I'm trying to get down." Harry complained.

"Doing what? Doing this?" Daphne shifted to languorously run her hand along the back of his neck, smiling widely as she felt him shudder under her touch.

"You sultry little witch." Harry murmured, as he set down the quill and pulled her in for a kiss. The next thing he knew, she was on his lap, her fingers moving through his hair as her tongue danced with his. He felt his ardor deepen as Daphne's curves nestled on his legs. He blushed as he realized that there was no way she could NOT feel the effect she was having on him… specifically his manhood. She pressed herself downward more firmly, grinding her bottom against his tightening pants. Nope, she definitely felt it. His hands began to explore her, slipping up under her jumper to feel her soft female flesh. She moaned against his mouth and her passion redoubled.

"Ahem."

With a squeak of alarm, Daphne bolted off of Harry's lap as if hit with a shocking hex, crashing unceremoniously on her bottom with an 'oof'.

Harry pulled the parchment onto his lap to hide his arousal and felt the burn in his cheeks as he realized that it only made it more obvious.

For his part, Preston had the good grace to keep his smirk to a minimum and to direct his gaze elsewhere.

"Sorry to interrupt. Very VERY sorry." Preston emphasizing the 'very' to a perhaps unnecessary degree, "I just wanted to let you know that we're heading back to Sanctuary."

"Leaving already?" Daphne breathed, still trying to get her breath back after her unceremonious landing.

"Yeah, I tried to talk the General into taking back the Castle again, but he is holding fast to the idea that we aren't yet ready for it. At the very least, I got him to agree to look into extending our supply chain and territory eastward toward the Castle. He's putting scouting out Jamaica Plain on his 'to do' list. Apparently there were some pre-war advertisements about some kind of fabulous treasure there and the General is nothing if not adventurous."

"Yeah, I think he is eager to get this Mechanist business sorted out." Harry agreed.

"Speaking of that, you should check out Ada. The General has really made some sweet modifications on her. She seems like a new robot, especially after Hermione performed her wonders and made her all shiny and smooth."

"Will do. Take care of yourself Preston."

"You too, Harry. Until we meet again." Preston tipped his hat to the both of them and turned away, gathering Marcy and Jun to his side so they could make the short trip back to Sanctuary.

"Ah, speak of the… er, robot." Daphne called out, noting that Ada was strolling languidly through the same door Preston just left.

Preston didn't exaggerate. Ada's turquoise paint gleamed and sparkled with polished smoothness, her new parts far more agile and graceful than before. Apart from the clunk as her heeled metal feet impacted with her steps, she moved almost silently.

"Greetings. I have completed the analysis of the radio beacon we retrieved from General Atomics. I have found the signal for another radio beacon coming from a location to the southeast near the settlement of Oberland."

"Ada. How close is the signal to Oberland itself?" Jon asked, approaching them with Hermione in tow.

Concern etched both of their faces as Ada relayed that the signal appeared to be moving toward the settlement.

"I was hoping to catch a night's rest, but if this robo-brain has anywhere near the number of robots the one at General Atomics did, Oberland is in serious trouble."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go." Harry declared, standing up and moving away to reboard the ship, hoping that no one caught the bulge in his pants that he sincerely hoped would go away soon.

He heard the others hurrying after him, the rapid staccato of Ada's footfalls drowning out their footfalls. Harry eschewed the use of the rope ladder and accio'd himself him onto the ship, crouching on his legs as he landed to absorb the shock. He glanced back to see Daphne following suit.

After a moment, Ada joined them, her arms flailing in the air and warning bleeps issuing from her vocoder, clearly unused to being leviosa'd. Harry waited for Hermione to join them, moving to the rail when she didn't appear after several moments. He looked down to see her patiently waiting for Jonathan, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Huh. I wonder where…" He was cut off as a towering figure resplendent in heavy chrome plates stomped from the balcony. The massive figure nodded to Hermione and she levitated him up onto the ship with a wave of her wand. The entire ship trembled as the powerful figure, looking for all the world like a knight of old, slammed onto the deck. He straightened and Harry gaped at what had to be the biggest gun he had ever seen. Though he was fairly unversed in Muggle weaponry, he was sure that it would be a test for him to even lift, let alone use.

Hermione shot up into the air and arced onto the deck, the figure easily catching her as she fell undignified with her eyes tightly shut. She never did take to flying…

The power armored figure cradled her for several moments longer than strictly necessary before carefully setting her feet down. It reached up and pulled off his helmet with a hiss, revealing Jonathan's grim face.

"I'm not getting blown up by those bastards again." He declared, hefting his gun meaningfully.

"Are you sure your gun is big enough?" Harry asked.

"Are you sure you aren't compensating for something?" Hermione asked at the same time.

He actually chuckled before answering, "It's a second generation gauss rifle. A series of capacitor banks accelerate a ferromagnetic round to hypersonic velocity. Very powerful. Perfect for putting a hole the size of a basketball into armor plated robots bent on slaughtering innocents."

"Can't argue with that logic." Harry agreed.

"Back so soon sir?" Ironsides asked, as he rolled up to the group.

"We have an emergency Captain. Commonwealth citizens are about to be attacked by rogue robots. Set a course for Oberland Station."

"Right away sir! We'll these rogues not to mess with the Salem Navy!"

"Salem Navy?" Harry murmured.

Daphne shrugged at him in answer as the mighty frigate fired up her rockets and began to heave forward into yet another fight.

* * *

 **POV: Harry, Oberland Station**

They spotted the robots a mere hundred yards from Oberland, the lead elements of the robot force already firing their long range weapons into the settlement. The small Minuteman contingent had already manned the guard towers (Oberland had not yet been enclosed by walls) and light machinegun turrets were answering with their own fire.

The Minutemen looked up in awe as the massive bulk of the Constitution roared above them, making a beeline for the advancing Mechanist's forces.

"We can't use the cannons, Captain! We're too close to the settlement." Harry shouted over the roar, his hair flying wildly in the wind.

"Roger that sir." The captain almost sounded surly at the command.

As the frigate past over the robots and banked sharply to come up behind them, Jonathan took a running start and leapt over the side of the frigate, his shout of glee amplified through the speaker grill of his power armor.

"Why does he keep jumping off of things?!" Hermione yelled, exasperated and more than a little green around the gills.

Harry never got the chance to answer as the robots shifted their fire from the settlement to them. As sturdy as she was, the increasing laser fire were beginning to burn holes in her hull.

"I'll teach you to put holes in my ship!" Ironsides bellowed, rolling to the rail closest to the enemy and unleashing his fury through 5mm fire.

Harry jumped onto his broom and flew off the ship, looping in a tight turn to bring him toward the robot's flank. He dodged an eyebot coming straight at him and twisted back just long enough to blast the offending 'bot with a powerful jolt of lightning. He weaved between two robots and pulled straight up into the air, coming back down to send of wave of white hot flame lancing down onto them before they could react. They collapsed as their metal frame melted and oozed, the occasional spark flaring as their systems died. Harry risked a glance back toward Jonathan, watching as he delivered an uppercut into the robo-brain's head casing, knocking the offending automatron's head clean off.

Harry shouted a warning to him as a deadly looking assaultron spooled up its own minigun, aiming at a seemingly unaware General's back. Almost nonchalantly, he laid his massive gauss rifle across his right shoulder and as promised earlier, 'blasted a hole the size of a basketball' in the center of the attacking robot's torso. It whined plaintively as it fell to the ground, the cylinder like body rolling down the hill in a cartwheel of flailing limbs.

Harry landed next to him and scanned the area with his wand held ready. Seeing no further threats, he started to relax and only just then noticed that there was cheering coming from the settlement.

Harry turned and saw the Minutemen atop their walls cheering for their General. They waved the Minuteman flag in celebration and the double handful of settlers surged from the station to clap their saviors on the back and yell their thanks over the cacophony. Harry smiled and shook hands left and right, enjoying the attention more than a little.

"That was amazing!"

"You fly like a hawk!"

"You wizards are the best!"

"That General is awesome!"

"Are they single?"

When the friendly mayhem finally drew to a close, the settlers went back to their business, though still talking about the amazing rescue they had witnessed. The story of how the Wizards of Salem and the General of the Minutemen came swooping in on a flying ship and wiped out an attacking army of evil robots would be told and re-told for generations.

Harry was still grinning as he and Jon re-boarded the ship, his glee undiminished despite the withering looks both Daphne and Hermione were directing at the pair. He planted a quick peck on Daphne's cheek, doing much to dissolve her disapproval.

Jon bounced the radar beacon he wrested from the wreckage of the dispatched robo-brain in his gauntleted palm, "We got it Ada. One radio beacon."

"Excellent sir. Once that one is installed, I can seek out the third beacon and from there triangulate the Mechanist's location."

A quick trip and a few minutes in the robot workbench later, Ada informed them that the final radio beacon was located southwest in a place called Fort Hagen Satellite Array.

"We'll join you for this stage, but afterwards, Daphne and I need to get back to Salem to check on things there. Those Rust Devils carry some residual magic on them and we need to get to the bottom of this mystery."

Jon nodded, "I appreciate both the company and the help."

Hermione merely smiled and nodded.

"Do you want to come back with us Hermione? Some downtime might do you some good. Plus we all know how much better at this research bit than the rest of us are."

Hermione waved away Harry's flattery, "Lilith is as good, if not better. Besides, I started this with the General, I'm going to see it through to the end."

"That's noble of you, "Harry began, before Hermione cut him off.

"You didn't see them Harry. The people those robots murdered. They were cut down were they stood, just normal people trying to make a living in this world. I am going to confront the madman who unleashed this horror and put a stop to it."

The look on Jonathan's face was a flurry of emotion, the strongest among them being admiration. He looked as if he wanted to speak to Hermione, his hands wringing as if fighting among themselves to reach out and touch the witch, but he clasped them all the harder and stilled them, smiling stiffly when he noted Harry watching him.

They spoke a little more, making their plans and later enjoyed a meal carefully prepared by a proud Codsworth, who gushed over the praise the group lavished on him. Dogmeat displayed his appreciation as well, gobbling up the scraps as his tail wagged vigorously.

After dinner, Jon showed each of them to well-appointed private rooms. Astoundingly, each had a curtained off partition with a freestanding claw foot tub for bathing. The toilet and sink also featured running water, a luxury they had thought to only find in Salem (and Sanctuary, after Neville and the others restored the homes to their pre-war condition.)

Harry heard the tap on the tub begin to fill it with water and steam rolled out through the partition in a heady light gray cloud. He smiled as he heard the splash followed by Daphne's contented sigh. He poked his head through the curtains and drank in the view greedily. Daphne smiled coyly at him as she scrubbed the last several days of grime from her body. Still confident after their victory over the robots attacking Oberland, he pulled the curtain aside and peeled off his clothes.

Daphne's eyes widened appreciatively as he stood in front of her naked, his head cocking to the side as he tried to judge if he'd fit in the tub too.

"We'll make it work." Daphne murmured, to Harry's delight.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione, Red Rocket**

In the adjoining room, Hermione tried to block the very obvious sounds of lovemaking that were reverberating through the walls with a slowly building intensity. With a huff of frustration, she threw off the blankets and swiveled her bare legs off of the bed. She stood up wearing only a t-shirt and panties, searching the dark room for her discarded pants and shoes so that she could flee with some dignity. She winced as she clearly heard Daphne calling out Harry's name and decided that she would risk it.

She tugged down the shirt as far as she could as she quietly exited her room and padded barefoot toward the balcony. The crisp night air sent a shiver through her as she walked out onto the balcony, belatedly wishing that she had thought to bring the blanket at least. She stood there for a moment and considered going back.

"You don't have to go." His low voice made her spin in scandalized shock, her hands flying to cover herself unnecessarily.

He sat in a low deck chair, a pipe nestled in his lips as he puffed contentedly and stared out at the night sky. She could see his head turn toward her and the jolt that accompanied his realization that she was half naked. He stood up and walked over to her, his jacket suddenly draped over her shoulders and falling to cover her to her thighs. She couldn't help but breathe deep of the scent, his manly musk mixed with machine oil and a faint hint of mint.

She didn't offer the slightest resistance as he pulled her close and began to rub her back with his hands. His body heat warmed her quickly and almost made her forget that their relationship was supposed to be purely professional. She felt so safe in that embrace, wrapped up in his arms, listening to him hum some wordless tune as if he were comforting a child. Apt. Often came the moments where he made her feel like a clumsy and socially inept young girl again. Almost as often as the times he infuriated her with his recklessness.

Time either stood still or flew by, both it seemed to her when he finally let her go, "It's getting rather late. We should both try and get some sleep."

She nodded in agreement, then murmured something like an acknowledgement when she realized he couldn't see her. She turned away reluctantly, surprised when his hands lingered for a moment before letting her go.

Grateful that the reason for her exodus had apparently concluded, Hermione sank into the soft bed and felt herself drifting off to sleep almost as soon as her head settled onto the pillow, her last thoughts were of his arms wrapped around her, not knowing that his thoughts at that moment was of the same thing.

* * *

 **POV: Morgan Le Fey, Somerville**

Morgan found reason to smile as she entertained the children, her rapport with the young ones going far to assuage their father's suspicion.

After a long and arduous journey, Morgan and her entourage had finally skirted the Glowing Sea and travelled north to the first settlement they could find, such as it was.

It was a single home set against low cliffs with fields of corn on its southern edge. Morgan was surprised as they approached the home to find a single father and two young ones eking out a living so far from any other source of civilization. She was even more surprised when she felt that the children, but not the father, were magical.

Approaching them with as much empathy and patience as she could muster, she quickly won over the children with the offer of sweets and was slowly assuring the father that she and her group were no threat to his family.

Tacitus (Morgan had decided that the usually silent servant needed a fitting name) had been put to work letting the creatures get some air while William grumbled about the human's ineptitude. The children were enthralled by them and seemed to have an affinity for them, laughing with delight as they played with a Niffler, who sniffed and searched for anything shiny it could stuff into its 'pockets'.

The adults watched the children play for a time, the father getting over his surprise over the creatures and her magic with suspicious alacrity. She turned to the man and poured him a cup of tea, waving her hand to invite him to partake. He took the porcelain cup carefully, sniffing at the drink before taking a long draught. Morgan smiled as she sipped hers more daintily, observing him enjoying the biscuits with gusto as she waited for him to stop stuffing his mouth long enough to ask a few questions.

"These are really good, mind if I save some for my kids?"

"Of course." She smiled magnanimously, "Keep as many as you like."

He grunted his thanks and drank the last of his tea, "Now, you were asking about my wife?"

"I hope it isn't too painful for you to talk about, but yes, I am curious."

"Years ago, I was burying my father there under the tree next to my mom, who had died a few years before. They had a good life, a long life, which I know I should be grateful for, considering the world we live in. But I was lost and numb. You see, I was alone then. I guess I hadn't really thought of it until the day he died and suddenly it was real, ya know? I was here on this little farm, all alone."

Morgan refilled his tea, which he took gratefully before continuing, never noticing as she slipped the tiny vial of veritas serum back into her thigh pouch hidden within her gown.

"It had started to rain, and I had been standing there for hours I guess. Leaning on that shovel just staring down at my folk's graves. I heard something then, something moving in those bushes down the hill a ways off from the tree."

"What was it?" She pressed.

"It was a girl. I thought it was a girl. No, turned out it was a woman grown. She was just so thin and underfed. She had the greenest eyes you'd ever seen. Once she was warm and dry you could see her hair, like the color of cornstalks at harvest time. Honey blonde I guess you'd call it. I was alone and she was alone and what started out as me doing the neighborly thing turned into her being my wife. We were happy, I thought. The babies came, one after the other, and I was sure that I'd never be alone again."

"Then something happened?" She asked, resting a hand on his arm comfortingly.

He looked down at her hand, as if surprised by human contact and nodded.

"Two years, two months and eleven days ago, she vanished. I was tending the field and she was heading down to the edge of the water to do some washing. If she had had a wand, she would have just waved it and done the washing with magic. I mean, she could do things still, little things. But, well, I suppose you knew better than I do, you being a witch too."

She nodded and smiled, turning slightly as the children ran past whooping with delight as the niffler chased after them, or more specifically, the shiny bottle caps each child had.

"I spent the next year looking for her. I took the children with me all the way to Diamond city. I asked everyone I came across. There was nothing. No trace at all, as if she never was. I even scraped up enough money to hire that Valentine fellow. He didn't find nothing, but he had the grace to give me back the caps. The children have managed to move on some, though I can hear them crying sometimes at night. I just wish I knew, ya know? Did she leave us? Was she taken? Did mirelurks get her? Slavers, raiders? The Institute? Hell, I don't know why I'm telling all this to you now. Suppose since you and she are alike in many ways, being magical I mean."

"Mr. Walsh…"

"Benjamin will do just fine." He interrupted

"Benjamin," She emphasized, tamping down on her irritation at being interrupted, "Though I fear I can't do much to solve the mystery of your wife's disappearance, I can at least do something for you and your children."

His eyebrows arched questioningly, his curiosity piqued at the notion.

"As you must have suspected, your children are magical. Liam has the gift to make a decent wizard someday, and Abigail could become a talented witch. I am even now journeying to a place where there are others like us, wizards and witches, people who could teach and guide your children as they grow and develop their powers."

His face darkened, "You aren't taking my children from me, magic or not."

"I don't mean to. I mean for all of you to come with me."

"Where is this place?" His expression softening now that she assured him that she wasn't just going to take his kids and leave him alone.

"Salem."

It took little convincing to get their father to agree, the only real reservation he had was leaving his ancestral home behind. The children were ecstatic to going on an adventure where they would meet more people like the Lady Morgan Le Fay and someday be wizards and witches too! The trio packed up their belongings and stared wide-eyed as the grumpy pukwudgie William shoved them all into a tiny bag, which he tossed to Benjamin muttering that he wasn't going to haul their junk across Massachusetts for them.

With a long suffering sigh, Morgan Le Fay made sure that everyone was clear before raising her wand and conjuring her power. The wand resisted only a little, the phoenix core ash wand slowly allowing her some degree of mastery, if for no other reason than there were no other options.

The Somerville family watched, amazed as they watched their home, the corn fields and the tree shrunk down so small one could plop it into a pocket with room to spare. Morgan twirled her wand and conjured a glass globe to encompass the tiny homestead, handing the resulting curiosity to Benjamin. He and the children huddled around it in fascination, every detail preserved within the globe.

"Take care with that, Mr. Walsh. Smashing the globe will set the house free and it will quickly resume its former size and shape. I recommend being sure of where you want the house to be before doing so."

"You mean… we're literally taking the farm with us?"

Morgan's smile actually reached her eyes as she gestured to the waiting carriage, Tacitus opening the door for the others to climb in. Securing the door behind the group, He climbed up next to William and took up the reigns, driving the metal horses onward toward the north, completely unaware of the several pairs of eyes watching them.

* * *

 **POV: Gunner Plaza**

Colonel Cypress was annoyed that his briefing was being interrupted by the conscript who burst in the door as if his ass were on fire.

"There had better be a damn good reason for this intrusion." He growled, the other officers glancing at him and turning to regard the newcomer.

The young man paled when he noted that he had barged into a high level meeting, sweat literally popping out of his pores as he tried to compose himself.

"I'm sorry sir. I thought you'd want to hear about this right away."

Colonel Cypress sat down and motioned for the man to continue, he had gotten to his position by skillfully vectoring actionable intelligence and had spared no effort into ensuring that he had eyes and ears in as many places as he could.

As soon as the man started talking, the Colonel frowned in distaste, realizing that this particular Gunner was part of a group assigned to keep watch on the southern edge of the Commonwealth near the Glowing Sea. Of what possible use could… wait, what did he just say?

"She waved a stick and the house and the surrounding land shrunk!" The man cried, the other officers wondering if the man had gone insane drinking swamp water.

"There's a perfectly round hole where the farm used to be! It's true!" He cried, realizing the doubting look he was getting from several of the officers.

"I believe you." Cypress muttered, steepling his hands and pondering the new information.

"Sir?" One of his Captain's began, incredulity writ plain across his face.

Cypress pulled several folders from a cabinet and threw them onto the table they were gathered around. The doubting officer pulled the one closest to him and opened it.

"A man was seen flying on a broom?"

Another officer, a fiery red headed recently promoted opened another, "The USS Constitution has taken off from downtown Boston and was seen flying off to the northwest."

"These are all reports, verified reports, of similar incidents taking place over the last couple of weeks. One or two I would dismiss. But this many? Finally, this came in two days ago." Cypress pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to the nearest Lieutenant.

The man unfolded the envelope and read its contents, "A contract from the Rust Devils. They are paying, yikes! 5000 caps for the capture of a man with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, last seen flying a broom by the General Atomic Factory!"

Colonel Cypress rose and fixed each of the officers in the room, each of them representing hundreds of Gunners in the field. "Reconnaissance in force. We'll take this contract, but more than that, we'll see about getting our hands on one of these people. With power like this, the Gunners will operate completely unhindered on the east coast. No one will be able to stand up to us, not the Minutemen reborn, not the Brotherhood of Steel and certainly not the Institute! Ladies and gentlemen, we are at the cusp of a new age. Gunners ascendance!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Normally, this would have actually been an update for Fall of Phaeton, but as my notes were quite copious and I had the momentum, I decided to go ahead and push this one out. Since no one has volunteered to be an alpha reader or beta reader, I am making due with my own ability to catch spelling, grammatical and continuity errors. Please review and thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6: One More Tomorrow

**Chapter 6: One More Tomorrow – Frankie Carl**

 _I don't own this stuff, I just write about it whilst humming to myself_

* * *

 **POV: Cait**

Agony lanced from the grotesquely mangled ruin of her leg and arced through her entire body setting her nerves alight. Gritting her teeth against the exquisite pain, Cait pulled forward a few more inches, dragging the leg behind her and fighting to keep conscious. Her throat was afire with thirst and her head swam with a swirling miasma of confusion and nausea. Utterly spent despite only travelling a scant few feet over the last couple of hours, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the glaring sky, the sun blazing overhead as if in rebuke to the fiery redhead.

She had dangled from the tram railway for the better part of the afternoon, the position too precarious to climb back up and the drop too far to safely land. As if to offer some limited mercy, Mother Nature unleashed a cold rain that deposited enough clean water to turn the ground below her into mud. Closing her eyes tightly against the brazen idea, she jerked her body back and forth, attempting to dislodge the safety belt that held her in its tentative grasp. Her heart leapt up into her throat as she felt gravity exerting its hold on her and pulled greedily and with hair raising speed.

The sudden impact drove the air from her lungs and the hideous snap from her leg made it very clear that she had badly broken it. She must have passed out, for when she opened her eyes, the landscape was barely lit by pale moonlight. Luckily, she had had an unbroken bottle in her satchel and immersed it in the muddy water, giving her some provision. She sighed as she realized that aside from the bottle, she only had her knuckle dusters and a change of underwear. Glaring at the slick mud that coated her from the chest down, she flailed a little, whimpering as her leg reminded her how badly hurt she was.

For the thousandth time over the last couple of days, she cursed that bitch Nora, and she cursed herself, for signing on in the first place. Knowing that it would merely depress her, she looked back along her path and noted with dismay that she had crawled a hundred yards at best. She laid there for a time, looking up at the sun and aside from a lifetime of regret, found not one trace of true happiness in her life that she could replay while she died. So she replayed the next best thing, a recent memory of a drunken bar fight and getting fucked from behind by a very well-endowed Operator.

She was laying on her back, rocking back and forth… wait, that wasn't part of the memory. A flash of light was followed by a deep warm blanket settling over her and sending her into the arms of Morpheus. She rocked some more, side to side this time. Ok, now she knew that wasn't what happened at all. She was drunk and high but her memory wasn't that fucked.

"Please wake up, we're in big trouble." A man's voice whispered harshly, his hands gently shaking her shoulders.

She was lying on a pallet, bereft of clothes and despite the dim light, could make out what looked like some kind of generator room. Leaping up in a panic, she threw the man back and rocketed a fist into his jaw, speeding his descent to the dirty floor. She pinned him beneath her body, balling up the front of his shirt in her fist as she raised the other.

"Where the fuck am I and who the fuck are you!?" She snarled.

"Daddy? Why is the naked lady jumping on you? Are you playing?" A sleepy voice asked, a small girlish head popping up from underneath a threadbare blanket on another pallet. Another head joined her, a young boy wiping sleep from his eyes and gasping as he saw what had woken his sister.

Cait had the grace to be a little chagrined, her breasts heaving with adrenaline as she straddled their father, hand raised to beat the shit out of the hapless man.

For his part, 'daddy' looked anywhere but at the very nude woman pinning him down. Never in his wildest… well, maybe his wildest dreams, did he imagine helping to rescue a woman from dying of infection and dehydration, only for her to jump on him in the nude and threaten to beat him senseless.

"I'm sorry you are waking up to this… but we need to be quiet. We are in trouble."

"What are you…" Cait began, her question interrupted by a bellicose roar that shook the very ground.

"That was a…"

"Deathclaw." The man interrupted, "We need to be very quiet. I'll explain everything once we get through this."

"If we get through this." Cait muttered, she went from dying on a muddy field to being trapped in some utility closet with a farmer and his kids hiding from a damn deathclaw. Fate was a bitch.

* * *

 **POV: Morgan and Tacitus**

Tacitus groaned as he tried to pick himself up off the ground. He regretted firing at the beast, but when it had dropped down from the ceiling, his panicked reflexes apparently chose fight over flight. The creature had then made its opinion known by running him over, the strength of it slamming into him like a freight train.

"It's alright. We're not here to hurt you." He heard his mistress say, clearly attempting to placate the deathclaw. From her sudden yelp, it was clear that it had no interest in talking. His eyes widened in shock and terror and he watched the creature swipe at her with a massive claw.

She slammed into the wall hard enough for stars to burst in her vision, her wand flying from her hand to clatter in the darkness. This creature was determined to kill both her and her thrall and it may very well succeed.

She spared a glance back at the generator room where the Walsh family had taken refuge with the mystery woman they had found dying in a pool of drying mud. She had sensed her magical potential and had taken it as a sign that despite the state of the world, magic was determined to return to this land. She had slept for the next day and a half, gently carried within the carriage as Morgan tended her wounds.

They had come across the 'bunker' that had apparently been the failed refuge of a mayor and his family. She had kept the family close to her as they explored, dispatching the few remaining traps with ease. Clearly tired and grumpy, Abigail and Liam needed to lie down, so Benjamin set them up with pallets in the utility room just off the large chamber apparently devoted to some sort of sporting activity. Tacitus, had retrieved the woman from the carriage and laid her there as well, best to keep her close in case she awoke.

Their luck had run out, as her thrall came rushing from a side passage, rough-hewn as if exposed by some tremor, a very angry deathclaw chasing after him.

Her vision was filled with the horned creature's visage, its eyes red with rage as it bore down on her with feral intent.

"Mistress!" Tacitus cried out.

She spared a glance in his direction to see him taking up her wand and tossing it in her direction.

It was a bad toss, made so by the deathclaw suddenly whirling to him when he shouted. Morgan extended her hand and called to it as it spun in the air, the wand veering in its path to snap into her palm.

She gasped as the beast swiped a claw almost lazily at her servant, the scythe like claws shredding through his leather armor and rending flesh. Blood sprayed as Tacitus mewled pathetically, his hands desperately attempting to hold in his organs even as he fell with a wet smack. He merely stared up at the deathclaw as it picked him up, shaking him and eliciting a scream from the former raider as glistening ropes of intestine flopped forth and slapped onto the ground. Bloody vomit burst from his mouth as he turned his head to his mistress, his eyes remorseful and apologetic.

The deathclaw roared as pain lanced into its back, the brief explosion of magical energy lighting up the chamber. He dropped the man and turned back to Morgan, her face set in furious defiance. It strode for her, leaving the man to die of its wounds while it dealt with the female.

A column of roaring white hot flame jetted from Morgan's wand and slammed into the beast's chest, arresting its forward momentum and even forcing it back. It roared against the pain as the fire ate away at its thick armored hide. It roared and surged forward, forcing Morgan to break off her attack and leap aside.

She could smell burnt meat and leather, the scales on its chest was blackened and cracked, cooked meat exposed beneath the charred flesh. It was clearly weakened from the wound, as it took longer for it to focus past the pain to locate her.

With a sigh of regret, Morgan focused her power on a metal stanchion and wrenched it free with a cry. She flicked her wand, the shard of jagged metal rocketing through the air and spearing the creature through the exposed flesh on its chest. It wailed pitifully as it clawed weakly at the metal spear, falling on its side as its heart, sundered by the stanchion, stopped its labored beating.

Morgan Le Fay limped over to Tacitus, frowning down at the hideously wounded man. He spared a smile for her, relieved that she was largely unhurt. She shook her head and summoned the magic to heal the worst of his wounds, the spilled intestines writhing like snakes as they 'crawled' back into his body. The horrifying wound was nearly sealed when she suddenly cried out, a red beam impacting her side and sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Hostiles detected." An obviously synthetic voice intoned. "Combat protocols engaged."

* * *

 **POV: Cait**

Cait had watched all this in silence, astonished at the amazing things the woman could do. She narrowed her eyes as Gen II synths suddenly appeared and took advantage of her distraction, shooting her before she even knew it was there.

"Now, that does it. I've had enough of this shite."

Eyes blazing, she scanned the room and spotted the first aid kit mounted on the wall. Tearing it open, she greedily took the purified water and the bottle of buffout within.

"Ah, now we're talking!"

She strode to the door with purpose, pausing at the emphatic throat clear behind her.

She looked back and saw 'farmer bob' gesturing at her body with his chin, his hands planted firmly over his children's eyes and unaware that they were peeking through gaps between his fingers.

Yep, still naked.

"No worries. Synths don't much care and right now neither do I."

Knuckle dusters girding her fists, the first synth had no idea what hit it as her fist slammed into its head hard enough to fracture the casing and throwing sparks out the other side. It teetered for a moment, Cait taking the moment to wrench its head free from its body and hurl it at the next synth.

"Catch!"

The synth actually complied, its programming too rudimentary to correctly discern the correct course of action in the somewhat esoteric circumstance of having a fellow synth's head thrown at it. It attempted to reconcile the strange situation and looked up to see a bare foot gliding through the air straight at its head.

The back of her foot slammed into the synth and knocked it back, its central processor attempting to compensate with the proper protocols. It jolted as the woman's fist slammed into its chest, once, twice, three times. The third strike caused its outer casing to fall away, exposing its mechanisms to the gleefully howling mad woman. She reached in and grabbed something important looking, then leapt up and planted her feet on either side of its chest and pushed off, the small pump like motor ripping free from its housing.

Apparently it WAS something important, as the synth dropped like a stone and lay still. She caught her breath and took the opportunity to drink deeply of the purified water, emptying the emergency container and moaning with pleasure as the clean water coursed down her throat. She cocked her head at the distance sounds of still more synths moving through the facility. Her face alight with a feral grin, she tossed the empty container aside and moved off with a whoop of excitement.

"Daddy, is she crazy?"

"Maybe… but she's our kind of crazy."

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

"Captain Ironsides, set course for Fort Hagen! We have some Rust Devils to vanquish!" Harry shouted, his excitement palpable.

"Right away sir! You heard the Admiral! Clear the mooring lines! Let's go boys!"

The frigate soared easily through the air, the wind howling even with the charms that had been cast to keep the wind from blowing them all off the ship. Instead, it was a stiff breeze, ruffling their hair and granting the journey an exhilarating air.

Harry waved down at the astonished settlers at Abernathy, the settlers gaping up at the massive ship soaring through the air. He couldn't help but chuckle at Connie Abernathy fainting into her husband's arms as they roared past.

A herd of Brahmin lowed and shuffled nervously as the shadow passed over them, but quickly forgot all about it as they single-mindedly set back to their meal of grass.

The Constitution flew about as fast as a mid-grade broom, and as such it took mere minutes for the massive satellite dish atop the hangar complex to come into view.

"Enemy forces spotted below sir!" Shouted a Mr. Lookout, who hovered inside the crow's nest.

Harry joined Daphne, Jon and Hermione at the prow and looked down at a rough fortification built up around the old-world military installation. From the shouts issuing below them, the Rust Devils clearly knew they were in trouble, sporadic gunfire and laser bursts began firing up at them from the ramshackle raider den.

"Those are Rust Devil's alright." Jonathan affirmed, pointing down at a brace of robots and raiders armored in the thick plates of robot parts.

"Captain!" Harry shouted, getting Ironside's attention, "Roll out the guns! Let's give them a broadside!"

"Huzzah!" Ironsides replied, raising his arms in salute.

The Constitution turned, placing its starboard side to face the encampment. A few more shots splattered against the tough hull of the old girl as the robots rolled the cannon forth and prepared them to fire.

"She's ready to fire at your command, sir!" The Captain reported.

"Fire!" Harry shouted with relish, getting caught up in the thrill of the encounter.

To the Rust Devils below, it appeared as though their pitiful shots had struck something vital, as the entire side of the ship erupted in smoke and flame. Their exultation was short lived, their shouts of triumph dying before fully born as they realized the terrible truth. A series of whistles heralded the 24 pound cannonballs streaking from each of the 15 immaculately maintained cannons on the gun deck. They struck like thunderbolts, a rippling wave of devastation that annihilated any hope for cohesive resistance.

Harry leaned dangerously over the rail, eyes gleaming with righteous anger as he surveyed the results from the mighty Constitution's salvo.

"Baubilious!" He shouted, directing his wand at a heavily modified protectron, the spitting lightning blasting into it and arcing into the surrounding raider totems. It collapsed with a moan of failing servos, parts of its now molten frame oozing like rivers of glowing blood. A single Rust Devil, also bedecked in heavy robot armor, yelled up at them, his voice sounding tinny and pathetic even as he punctuated his curses with assault rifle fire. A simple blast of red energy hurled him to the ground, his limbs splayed around him like a broken puppet.

Harry looked over and took in the satisfied look in Daphne's eyes as she lowered her wand. In what was becoming his signature move, Jonathan hurled himself over the edge, grasping the anchor as he fell and pulled it down with him, securing it to a partially blasted metal stanchion. He waved up at them and raised his gauss rifle, moving into the ruin with tactical efficiency.

Hermione nervously chewed her lips as she sought to catch a glimpse of the General amidst the smoke of the ruined fortress, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding when he appeared on a tower and gave them the 'thumbs up.'

The trio descended with their magic, their wands out even as their feet touched the scorched earth. They found Jonathan on a ledge just above the base of the massive satellite dish, tapping away at some kind of cobbled up computer terminal. They heard his grunt of triumph just before a security door opened up, revealing a small alcove with a trap door set into the concrete flooring.

With the soldier in the lead, the foursome made their way deeper into the Rust Devil lair, carefully picking their way through piles of technological detritus.

"This place is a treasure trove of muggle technology." Harry remarked, noting the various tools and objects so haphazardly strewn about.

They paused at the top of a ramp, the corridor turning to the right ahead of them. They paused and Harry could clearly hear the noisy preparations of one or more people or robots not far away. Peering around the corner, he saw that the ramp continued downward and at the far end was a raised platform with a Rust Devil standing guard with three vicious looking robot guards.

Harry looked over and saw Jonathan pull a few grenade like objects from his backpack, "What are those?"

"Pulse grenades. They won't do much against a man but will play havoc with a robot's systems. I toss these and lay down some suppressive fire. You three do your thing and bring them down. Focus on the Rust Devil though, like I said, the grenade won't hurt him much."

Harry nodded at the plan and readied his wand as Jonathan primed the grenades and rolled them underhand to clatter down the ramp.

"Hey! What the fuck?!"

Three searing blasts of electrified radiance exploded in rapid sequence at the base of the ledge, the robots clustered around it writhing as the lightning seemed to adhere to their metal frames. Harry leapt out from around the corner with a cry, sending a stream of hot pulses surging into the Rust Devil, his body jerking with each hit. He teetered for a moment before pitching off the ledge, Harry's magic having punched bloody holes straight through the hapless raider. Daphne and Hermione joined him, waving their wands and sending waves of force to crash into the robots.

"Brilliant!" Harry exulted, grabbing Daphne for a quick kiss. She blushed and smiled so widely that Hermione felt a stab of jealousy, looking to the General and wondering what it'd be like for him to congratulate her that way…

"Let's not celebrate too soon." Jonathan warned, "There are sure to be many more deeper inside."

"Spoilsport." Daphne complained, making a face at the seriousness in the General's demeanor.

"Let's just get on with it." Hermione huffed.

Daphne looked to Harry with a look that said, 'What's wrong with her?'

Harry gestured at the General's back as the man strode down the ramp, his weapon raised as he examined the body and wreckage.

"Hermione, take a look at this." He motioned toward one of the robots.

She bent down and raised the scorched metal pauldron gingerly, then held it up for Harry and Daphne to see.

"It looks like a rune."

"Eihwaz." Hermione affirmed, "It means defense."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, since he hadn't made a study ancient runes himself.

"Oh yes. I got it wrong on the O.W.L., I never forget something once I get it wrong."

"What did you answer?" Jonathan asked, always curious about the magical world, "and what's an O.W.L.?"

"O.W.L.s are tests given in each subject in Wizarding School. The scores determine if you can advance in that class in subsequent years and if you can get certain jobs when you graduate." Harry explained.

"I wrote 'ehwaz', which means partnership." She murmured.

"They sound the same." The muggle General admitted, "in any case… what does it mean?"

"It means that magic is involved. The witch or wizard may have inscribed these runes in order to make them more capable in battle. Done the right way, a rune of defense can protect against any number of different types of attack. I suspect that these runes were applied to protect against normal bullets and the like. If you had come in guns blazing, you may have had a hard time of it with one of your machine guns."

"Well, whoever did it isn't that well-versed in muggleship. Robots are already pretty tough against bulletocity. It would have been better to protectify them against electo-ouchy type stuff."

Harry cracked a grin and even Hermione allowed herself a small smile at the General's made up vocabulary. What he said made sense though, once you filtered out the man's lame attempt at humor.

"Let's just be glad that he or she isn't." Harry declared, "Let's get on."

They moved through the facility like a well-oiled machine, the combination of the General's combat prowess and Harry's skill at slinging spells in battle meshing well. Hermione and Daphne's contributions were overkill, as they stream-rolled over everything the Rust Devils threw at them. They eventually came out into a large room that was strangely empty of adversaries, something that made the hair on Harry's neck rise on end.

"Now that is one ugly tosser." Daphne declared, eyeing the massive robot decorated with an abundance of skulls and spikes.

"Almost as ugly is that thing." She muttered, indicating the clear glass dome with a yellowed brain inside.

"You aren't much to look at either." The machine voice declared, the red stripped lighting shifting to indicate that it was the brain that was speaking.

Overcoming their shock at the talking brain, they questioned it and soon discovered that the arrogant creature was once a fully embodied servitor of the Mechanist, but refused to help further unless it was liberated from the Rust Devil facility. If they hadn't needed the information 'Jezebel' possessed, Harry would have been just fine with leaving the rude _thing_ down there to rot. With a sigh, Jonathan detached the head from the machinery and tucked it into his backpack, shoving it in only marginally harder than purely necessary.

"Do you hear that?" Daphne wondered aloud, turning about to catch the source of the odd rumbling.

"Unit designation: Ahab. Intruders detected. Combat protocols initiated. Objective… EXTERMINATE."

A massive gout of flame washed over the computer terminal, the girls screaming as Harry and Jonathan grabbed them and pulled them down in the scant protection offered by the rapidly heating metal device.

Jonathan tossed a pair of pulse grenades over the device, his hand blistering as they contacted the white hot flames. Thankfully, the grenades detonated despite the searing heat and momentarily halted the deluge of fire. The four scattered out from behind the console, all except Jon moving to put as much distance between them and the sentry bot.

It recovered quickly and roved forward on massive treads, the deathclaw skull head sweeping from side-to-side as it tried to cogitate the best method of attack. Harry saw Jonathan attempting to sneak around the robots back and sent a quick blast of lightning into 'Ahab'.

"Aw crap." Harry frowned, noting that the lightning actually struck some sort of shield, its arcs splaying out around a magical barrier of some kind. He surged from behind the workbench he was crouched behind just as Ahab bathed the area in white hot death. Daphne shouted and sent a bead of fire down at the robot.

The small mote blossomed into a respectably sized fireball on impact, the force of the detonation actually making the robot rock slightly. Harry noted that her spell had hit it, the mystery wizard or witch apparently only shielding the robot against electricity.

The trio blasted the robot with a variety of hexes and curses, trying everything they could to keep the killing machine distracted.

The robot went into a frenzy when it felt the General clamoring onto its back. It tried to bludgeon him with its arms and when that failed, began to back up as if to smash the irritant from its back against the walls of the hangar. Jonathan cried out as he tried to scramble out of the way but got his leg caught between the robot's back and the wall, concrete and plaster raining down him as he struggled. Ahab rolled forward, intent on repeating its attack.

Harry felt his heart stop as the General, clearly hurt, used his good leg to kick down at something on the robot's back. The sentry bot revved and surged back but stopped with a jolt so hard that Jonathan was thrown from his back to smack against the wall. The robot turned slowly, revealing a cracked casing showing a pair of fusion cores.

"Shoot the cores!" Jonathan shouted, scrambling away from the robot, his left leg laying still and useless.

Harry adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath before carefully aiming, "Confringo!"

The fiery blast detonated right on the mark, the brilliant orange flame overshadowed almost instantly by the double fusion cores exploding with their substantial stored energy. Harry shielded his eyes against the glare and prayed that Jonathan got away in time.

He turned just as Jonathan fell, the man having braced himself on the other side of some kind of robot pod. He slammed into the metal grated floor with a profound, "Ouch!"

Surprisingly, a couple of stimpacks and a healthy gulp of water later and Jonathan was just fine, though his clothes didn't fare nearly as well.

"That was some good shooting, Harry. I'm going to have to write down how many I owe you, getting hard to keep track."

Harry chuckled and clapped him on the back, just grateful that he survived. From the look on Hermione's face, she felt the same, though when she noted Harry looking at her, she turned away quickly and feigned a cough.

If they had thought that the battle was the hardest part of their endeavor, they were clearly lacking in imagination, Harry later grumbled. 'Jezebel's' constant stream of criticism becoming a serious hazard to her continued existence. It was likely that irritation that caused them to be surprised by what looked like an Ada type ninja robot, scythe like blades arcing through the air as it tried to bisect the foursome.

A power armored raider, the apparent leader of this gang, followed on the heels of her assassin 'bot and hefted an odd yellow gun which sparked with fury as it sent jolts of lightning at the group. Hermione found herself jerked to the side as Jonathan yanked her from the path of the electricity, the spitting line of crackling white spearing him instead. Hermione cried out as the General groaned, clutching his chest in agony as smoke wafted from his scorched clothes.

He tried to shake it off as the assaultron loomed over him, its bladed hands raised for a coup de grace. Harry noticed Jon's predicament but was pinned by lightning from the raider leader and was helpless to lend aid. Daphne fought on Harry's side and forced the power armored assailant back with several well placed strikes though the mad raider kept up the pressure with her lightning gun despite the attack.

Hermione flourished her wand and gripped the robot with her power. With a cry of desperation, she hurled the automatron straight up into the ceiling, the crackling glow from its head laser dying out as its head was unceremoniously flattened against the unyielding concrete barrier. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and refocused his efforts on the raider, whose power armor seemed to be girded against numerous types of attack. The tesla coils on its shoulders seem to lend malevolence to the raider's attacks, her voice shrieking with madness as she raked them with her weapon.

Harry narrowed his eyes as he poured more power into his shielding charm, sweat pouring from his forehead at the strain her assault was having on him.

"Daphne! Hermione! I need you to shield us! I have an idea!"

The girls nodded before replacing his shield with their own, the renewed defense taking much of the bite of the raider's attack. The shields overlapped and incandesced as they absorbed the immense power flowing from her weapon.

"Accio fusion core!" Harry shouted, his efforts rewarded with a soft pop from the back of the raider.

The tesla coils died down immediately and the sheer power behind the lightning gun diminished noticeably. Taking advantage of the lull, Jonathan leapt up with a cry and put every ounce of his augmented strength to push the hapless Rust Devil through the window to crash on the floor two stories below.

The raider was laying insensate on the floor, her limbs barely moving as she struggled weakly beneath the weight of the armor.

"She landed on her back!" Jonathan shouted, "She won't be able to leave the armor like that. We need to get down there and put an end to this!"

Harry didn't need to be told twice, grasping the still struggling General, he leapt over the balcony and arrested their momentum mere inches from the ground. Jon collapsed on the ground but waved away Harry's concerned look. Noting that Daphne and Hermione were following them down, he turned his attention back to the raider, who had seemingly stopped her struggles.

He approached, lowering his wand to wipe the sweat from his brow. He jerked it back up when the raider, in a burst of strength, rolled the power armor onto its side and escaped her metal prison with an agonized grunt, blood running in streams down her body as her flesh tore on the mangled edges of the armor plates.

She snarled at the four, her grease lined face and angry expression greatly diminishing what would otherwise have been a lovely Hispanic woman. She threw her gun at them with a cry of frustration, Harry easily dodging the flimsy attack.

Harry was beyond shocked when the woman whipped out a wand and sent a bolt of sizzling red energy at him. Years of experience and a natural talent for dueling came to the fore as Harry whipped his wand up to block the hostile spell. The woman's eyes widened somewhat at her failure but pressed her attack, firing bolts at Harry as quickly and furiously as she could, despite her painful wounds.

Hermione and Daphne looked up from the prone Jonathan to see Harry expertly blocking curse after curse as the dark witch attempted to rain devastation at him. She was clearly tiring and Harry took full advantage of her flagging assault, launching attacks of his own while simultaneously blocking hers.

All three of the onlookers gasped at the speed and ferocity of Harry's spellcraft, his skill at dueling clearly unaffected by their long sleep. He seemed ablaze with life as he relished being in his element, one on one against a witch who had corrupted herself dappling in the dark arts.

The woman's expression grew desperate as she realized just how overmatched she was. Harry twirled his wand with a relish and relieved her of her wand, her hopes dying as it flew from her fingers. She flew back, folding in on her stomach as Harry pummeled her with a fantastically powerful stun, hurtling the witch back several feet.

She lay on her back, panting and heaving with fear as Harry stood over her, his wand pointed at her face.

"Now, you are going to explain yourself." Harry commanded, his tone brooking no disagreement. Confusion warred with determination as a pool of inky blackness spread out from beneath the woman like a growing stain of dark blood. Noting his confused expression, the woman looked around and saw the darkness spreading beneath her.

She exploded into hysterics, writhing and kicking to pull free from the growing abyss that seemed to drink in all light.

"Guh! No father, please! Father!" She screamed and pleaded, even as shadowy hands reached up from the pool to subdue her frenzied struggles.

She even reached out to Harry, "Oh god! Please help me!"

The sheer terror in her voice compelled Harry to act at once, leaping forward to grasp the woman's hand. The shadowy force began to pull at her, Harry sliding forward as he strained with all his might to keep hold of her arm.

The woman sobbed pathetically as the inexorable pull increased, "Puh-please! Kill me! Kill me! Aw fuck, kill me please!"

Harry felt his heart stop, what was so frightening that this woman, who just minutes ago was a strong warrior witch leading a contingent of ruthless raiders into a woman pleading for death?

He got no opportunity to ask, as the woman was ripped from his grasp into the pool, which closed around her retreating form with amazing alacrity. The echoes of her frantic screams echoed through the chamber and sent a chill down all their spines.

"Finally, good riddance." The robotic voice of Jezebel intoned.

In swift fury, Jonathan stood up and grabbed the robot brain from his pack, dropping kicking it with malice to bounce around the concrete walls as the robot wailed.

"Wish you'd have let me do that." Harry commented, his expression dark with the revelation that they were dealing with a powerful dark wizard or witch.

"I'll go get her, give you a go." Jonathan muttered, wincing as his wounds started to catch up to him.

"No, better not damage her too much, we still need her help to find the Mechanist." Harry lamented, "But maybe now she will act as smart as she says she is and keep her bloody mouth shut."

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

An hour later, the USS Constitution was cruising back to Red Rocket to drop off Hermione and Jon. They needed to continue their mission to stop the Mechanist and Harry was determined to head back to Salem. The others needed to be told about the threat, who he was sure was Jeremiah.

Daphne hugged Hermione and gave Jon a playful slap on the arm, "Take care of her will you?"

Jon nodded and gave her a kind smile, surprisingly placing an arm over Hermione's shoulder, "I will guard her with my life."

Hermione's shocked expression was pure gold. Harry shook his head ruefully and wondered (not for the first time) how two obviously brilliant people could be so blind.

Waving their farewells, the frigate lifted off and glided stately to the east. Harry stood hand in hand with Daphne at the forecastle, the pair silently taking in the sights as the ship headed for home.

Harry's heart leapt when Salem's walls came into view, Daphne's squeeze assuring him that the feeling was mutual. Remembering that they hadn't told them about coming back on a flying ship, he hurriedly sent a series of green flares into the sky with his wand, giving what he hoped would be taken as an all clear signal.

The turrets and guards didn't open fire as they flew closer, Harry ordering Ironsides to slow so he could lean over the rail and wave at the militia manning the walls.

He spotted George staring openmouthed at the flying ship and shouted down at the dumbfounded Weasley, "Ahoy there! Look at what we found!"

Harry had ironsides land the ship alongside one of the docks jutting from the east edge of the settlement, a crowd clamoring forward to gape at the sight and welcome Harry and Daphne back home.

"Bloody hell Harry! You know how to make an entrance!" George exclaimed.

"Coming from you George, that is quite the compliment." Harry agreed, grinning as the taller redhead gripped his hand firmly.

"Mr. Potter! Good to have you back! I should have known you'd pull off another amazing stunt!"

Barney Rook, a pair of Salem militia at his back, strode up the gang plank and snapped off a salute to Harry, "Permission to come aboard sir!"

"Granted. Barney, meet Captain Ironsides, the new Commander of the Salem Navy! Captain, this is Barney Rook, Commander of the Salem Militia."

"Capital to meet you sir!" Ironsides bellowed, "I look forward to my new post as Commander of this robot's navy and working with you to pummel the enemies of our glorious nation!"

Barney smiled sardonically and could only say, "Likewise."

"You know, I think we could fix up all these smaller boats to fly too!" George began to blab excitedly, gesturing at the fishing trolleys moored around them, "Will and I can get to work right away!"

"Whoah, whoah!" Harry shouted, forestalling the wizard before he could go tearing off, "Gather up everyone at the Church." His demeanor darkening as he continued, "I have some bad news."

It only took minutes for the bulk of Salem to assemble inside the church, the common area filled to bursting with the over two hundred residents of the growing community. Harry was pleased to see that the vault survivors mingled in with the others, showing that they were recovering from their ordeal and taking their integration into his community in stride.

"It's good to see you all, I want to hear about everything that's been going on since I left, but right now I need to warn you of a fire threat that faces us."

Voices rose in concerned murmuring at his dire tone. Harry held up his hands to quiet them all down before continuing, "As many of you know, we first came to Salem at the behest of a written invitation to all of us with magic. To come here and start anew. When we arrived, we found that the community we were expecting had failed… victimized by the greed and lust for power of one of their own. A wizard named Jeremiah. Now, due to the age of the ruin we found here, we thought that Jeremiah was long gone, perhaps dead. We were wrong." He drew in a shuddering breath, "I was wrong."

Daphne laid a hand on his arm, offering him the support he needed to continue, "Daphne and I rescued the General of the Minutemen and travelled with him and Hermione for a time. During our mission, we've discovered that these 'Rust Devils' seem to be working for Jeremiah."

"They were the ones who broke into our vault and kidnapped our loved ones!" One of the vault survivors shouted, clearly inferring from the name that they were the ones who invaded their home.

Harry nodded, "It makes sense. The descriptions you gave match up with the tossers we've been fighting lately."

"But why? Why did they take them?" A young woman wailed. More voices added to the tumult and drowned out Harry as he tried to placate the people. Remembering a tactic the Dumbledore once used, he augmented his voice with his wand.

"QUIET DOWN, YOU LOT!"

It felt like a mild hurricane blew through the room, everyone rocking back against the gale force wind that carried Harry's words. A little over the top, but it clearly got the job done.

"I don't know what Jeremiah is doing, or why. But he and his cronies clearly represent a threat to all of us. I wanted you to be aware of the danger and that I will face it, alone if I have to. But I will face it."

"We're with you Potter!" A settler shouted out, raising his fist into the air.

"Us too!"

"You can count on us!"

"We stand with you Harry!"

Harry felt a wave of relief at the optimism that seemed to have infused even the pitiable victims from the Vault.

"Now, I need to talk to some folks, you know who you are. The rest of you clear out and do what you can to get ready. There may very well be a war on our hands." Especially as Jeremiah undoubtedly knew that other wizards and witches were now in the Commonwealth, and he won't be happy that they disrupted whatever plans he had regarding Fort Hagen.

People filtered out and headed back to their business, heads together as they talked about ways they could contribute to the coming fight. The vault survivors seemed especially animated, as they now had a concrete goal to work towards: revenge for their dead and the potential chance, however slim, of rescuing their kidnapped loved ones.

Harry smiled at Daphne and pulled her along as they descended into the church's basement, where there was a little more privacy within the wizard's communal work area. He sat at the head of a long oaken table, Daphne sitting beside him as others began to filter in and take seats themselves.

He noted Barney Rook, George Weasely, Lilith Moon and her guardian companion Fingers. Doctor Anderson, Nearly Headless Nick, and the Grey Lady, Helena joined moments later. Neville tromped down the stairs, his grin at seeing Harry again making him appear even more lopsided than usual. Lastly, Susan Bones and Vincent joined them, the latter assisting Mr. William. Finally, huffing and disheveled, Piper with her omnipresent press hat firmly in place stumbled down with Nat on her heels.

The meeting was delayed for a moment as Nat leapt into Harry's arms, the young girl giggling as he twirled her around.

"Is it time for another broom ride?" She whispered conspiratorially.

"I've got something even better." Harry confided, you should check out the docks.

Her eyes widened, "So you really DID come in on a flying ship?"

At Harry's nod, the young lady whooped and ran right out of the room, nearly bowling her older sister over in her haste to see the marvel.

"Good to see you Potter." Piper grinned, taking his hand in hers in a firm but warm handshake. She cocked her head to the side saucily, "I hear you had quite the adventure out there. How about an exclusive?"

"You have my word, I'll tell you the whole thing."

"I'm going to hold you to that! With the press working so well now and those wonderful owls delivering papers to settlements all over the Northwest Commonwealth, I need more material for the next edition!"

"My word on it, Piper." Harry vowed solemnly, before breaking out in a grin when Piper slapped him playfully on the arm.

He sat back down and turned his attention to the people who had joined him in their impromptu meeting place. He looked around as if missing someone, "Is Luna not back yet? I thought she and Soleil would have returned by now."

"You know Luna." Neville interjected, "She probably got distracted by something only she could see. Though she did send word with your owl that she would be coming back soon." Neville couldn't quite hide the concern in his voice despite his assurances.

Harry made a mental note to look into that after this meeting. He turned to Barney next.

"I couldn't help but notice a few extra faces among your boys Barney, things going well there I take it?"

"You betcha! A little over a dozen of those Vault folks have signed on, we're up to 30 militia now. A few of them don't know a rifle from a smack on the ass, but I'll get them whipped into right shape. Figure we'll need them if this 'Jeremiah' fellow is as bad as you're implying."

"He's worse." Harry admitted, "Still, brilliantly done, Barney. Really."

"I've been helping Neville a bit, using those glowing fungi he found to clear the radiation from the soil. I think I found a way to get them to grow quickly, do their job, and then produce spores to carry them onward to new locations with more radiation for them to feed on. I've passed on the results to Neville and Vincent and I are getting ready to make the trip to Starlight."

"Great Susan! That will help loads. And thanks for agreeing to getting that cottage you found set up for us."

"It does have more flat land behind it, more crops can be grown there and it is in a good place for us to keep an eye on the north."

Harry was surprised, "I didn't know you were tactically minded Susan."

"Um, no… that last bit was Vincent's." She smiled shyly as the man beamed at her.

"Oh, and one more thing… I was curious about how the glow fungi would work in a potion, so I whipped something together that I think will do a better job of flushing radiation than that Muggle stuff, Radaway."

"Better how?" Barney asked, intrigued.

"Well, first off, you don't have to have it injected. You can either drink it or smear it on your skin."

"That's brilliant, Susan." Hermione added, clearly impressed by her work.

"I don't know if it works out yet though, needs to be tested." Susan offered meekly.

"I'll do it." Vincent was quick to jump in, his confidence in her ability taking the redhead aback a little.

"I, uh, mean that it needs to be tested in the lab first… with muggle science. I wouldn't want anyone to be hurt trying it before Mr. William and Doctor Anderson have had the chance to do their thing."

Vincent sat back down, blushing a little in embarrassment at how he jumped up like that and made a minor fool of himself.

Quick to change the subject and spare him any further embarrassment, Harry turned to Neville, "How are things with you Neville?"

"Things are great! The new seed crops that the Minutemen brought in are doing wonderfully. We've planted some just outside the walls since we've started running out of room in here. Plus, I've been able to trade for plant samples from the caravans, wonderful how much credit a simple reparo will get you. Some really fascinating specimens. You know, there's this plant that actually defec…"

"That's great Neville, thanks to you, we can eat well again!" Harry had to cut him off before he really got going, he really loved herbology and nothing made Harry want to go into catatonic shock faster than Neville talking about pollinating cycles and the like.

Harry kept the plastic grin firmly in place as he turned to Lilith next, the witch smirking at the expression.

"As you asked in your message, I went ahead and looked over the Vault residents for anyone that had magical ability. I'm sorry that none of us thought to do it before."

Harry waved away her apology, "We came from a world where there was an entire agency in the Ministry for that sort of thing."

Lilith continued, "Well, you were right, there are five people with magical talent in the group. A surprisingly high number given the low population of the vault, relatively speaking."

"That's amazing, Lilith! Do the others in their families know?"

"I took them aside and explained things, their families either took it with a sense of relief, a good explanation for the strange things that happen around their child, or were downright excited at the idea that their family member could be a wizard or witch."

"So who are these people?" Barney asked, though Harry suspected his reason may have been to move the discussion along rather than any real interest in their identity.

"A young woman named Rose, her parents were among those that were thrilled. Twin boys, Rufus and Renaldo Cruz. Their father, who I understand is their step-dad, was more along the relief side of things. Apparently, their mother had been taken in by the vault after she was found unconscious outside. She had some sort of slave collar around her neck and had been treated quite poorly before then. She died giving birth to them. Finally, there is an older man named Clarence Tyler, whose family had always lived in the vault and his grandson, Jon Tyler."

"We need to start them on lessons as soon as possible." Harry began.

"I'm already working on building a class schedule," Lilith interrupted, "but we don't have any wands to give them."

Ah, there was the problem. With no access to wands or the other materials vital to a wizard or witches education, there was a very real issue that their numbers would always remain low. Or that without proper instruction, a young boy or girl could potentially unleash an obscurus.

"I wonder if that's why their vault was targeted." Daphne mused aloud. The silence that followed her rhetorical question was palpable, the unseen threat hanging over them as a magical community looming over them as never before.

"A small and relatively isolated and 'protected' community with a larger than normal instance of magical talent? Yes, I am sure that Jeremiah would have been very interested in them." Harry stated grimly.

Any further speculation was halted as an owl's clarion call echoed through the magical lab, the snowy plumed owl swooping in and dropping a scroll onto the wooden table before wheeling over their heads in a playful way, hooting with mirth and flying back up to the rookery.

Daphne reached for the scroll and unfurled it, her eyes scanning rapidly as she took in the message.

"It's from Sunshine. A bloke named Nick Valentine is there and wanted to send word to you Harry."

"Yeah! He's the private detective, the one I asked to find Cait for us."

"Well, he managed to follow the trail of rumors of her and a wild vault dweller all the way to the Nuka-world transit center south of Sunshine. He says the old world theme park is held by powerful and violent raider gangs, and couldn't go on any further. He's going to stay put at Sunshine and wait for a reply. He also says something about a build-up of Gunner activity at their overpass close to the settlement. He's going to keep an eye on them for the settlers."

Harry nodded at the news, considering how best to proceed. As the realization dawned that it would probably involve him leaving Salem again he sighed mentally. He had been looking forward to a little downtime, plus he had things he needed to attend to here. But he had promised himself to find Cait and he couldn't very well leave Nick hanging out at Sunshine waiting on him.

"I'll send word back that I'll come out that way tomorrow. I at least want to spend one night in my own bed for once."

"Me too." Daphne agreed, her expression screwing up in confusion when Barney barked with sudden laughter. She looked at Harry and saw his eyes twinkling with mirth as well, the innuendo behind her statement suddenly coming to her. Her cheeks colored red but she didn't take back what she had said… she in fact did plan to spend the night in Harry's bed.

The meeting adjourned shortly after, with Susan pausing at the doorway to the church when Vincent called after her.

"Hi. Uh, Susan. Listen, I just wanted to apologize for anything I did that embarrassed you."

Susan shook her head ruefully, "Oh no. It's fine Vincent, really. You don't have to apologize."

Her breath hitched up in her throat when she realized how close he was to her. Now that he had quit smoking, he smelled… quite nice actually. She tentatively laid a hand on his chest, astounded that she could feel his heart pounding so fiercely. She looked up and nearly gasped at the intensity of his gaze, her mouth opening slightly of their own volition as his head descended…

"Hey guys!" Neville exclaimed, "Check it out! My tato experiments worked!" Neville proudly held out the results of his work, attempting to untangle the mess that the cross bred potato and tomato had produced. A healthy looked tomato plant was held in his left hand and a vine with a healthy looking potato was balanced in the other.

Susan gave him a slight smile and looked at Vincent furtively, suddenly overwhelmed at the agonized look on his face and the surge of emotion she had just been caught up in. She darted away, Daphne hurrying after her, shooting confused looks at both Neville and Vincent.

Vincent sighed and ran a hand over his face, leaning back against the doorway while Neville squeezed past, apologizing under his breath for the interruption.

"Be patient with her, Vincent." Harry said softly, as he came to stand next to him. "She's not used to that sort of attention. I can see that she likes you though. She just doesn't know how to show you just yet. Give it time."

Vincent smiled gratefully at Harry's encouraging advice, following in his wake as Harry declared that it was past time to tuck in for some lunch.

They found the diner packed, the tantalizing smell of sausage and vegetable stew making their mouths water instantly. The clamor inside was almost overwhelming, with people talking over one another and spoons clanking against rapidly emptying bowls.

A settler that Harry didn't know spotted them at the doorway and rushed over with two steaming bowls.

"You'll have to sit out here I'm afraid. But we got some nice patio furniture and a good deck to set them on now. Just across the street there, gives you a nice view of the water."

Harry and Vincent thanked the woman and walked over to the much quieter spot. They sat next to Barney and two of his militiamen, who merely grunted at them between spoonfuls of stew.

"Is it good?" Harry asked, amused at the spectacle.

"I don't know." A militiaman paused his smacking long enough to answer, "I'm eating it too fast to know what it tastes like. I'll let you know after my third bowl."

Harry felt a mild twinge of guilt, everyone had been on reduced rations so long that now that they had plenty, people were stuffing themselves as if it wasn't going to last.

"He's pulling your leg, Potter. It's delicious." Barney announced, just before a massive belch clearly punctuated the group consensus. "Here, have a beer."

It was no Guinness, but it was cold and it added to the comradery, the pleasant feeling of sitting with the boys eating good food and enjoying the view.

At the other end of Salem, a pair of young women were having a somewhat less pleasant time. Daphne had caught up to Susan just outside the apartment building where most of the single women lived.

"I don't know anything about love or romance or kissing or anything like that!" Susan wailed. Daphne was a little unsure of how to respond. Susan had always been a wonderfully naïve and watching her struggle with this was far less amusing now then it was when they were children at Hogwart's.

"Just take things a day at a time." An unexpected voice answered, the Grey Lady wafting by with a sad smile on her face. She reached out and stroked a ghostly hand on Susan's cheek, a gesture that the young woman couldn't feel physically but still appreciated.

"You needn't be worried. The young man is clearly enamored with you. There is almost nothing you could do to dissuade him at this point." Helena continued.

"Besides, your biology will go a long way to letting you know what goes where." Daphne added, a wicked look on her face.

Susan looked scandalized, but smiled as she jokingly slapped at Daphne's arm, "I know where things go." She murmured.

"Oh DO you now?" Daphne teased, the trio bursting into laughter.

Whatever distress Susan had evaporated in the comforting presence of her friends and the warm glow that accompanied the idea of Vincent and her 'putting things where they go'.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Slightly shorter than my normal updates, but I had to stop now or else this chapter would end up being much bigger than it should and would feel a little lopsided. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, please leave a review and let me know how I am doing._


	8. Chapter 7: The End of the World

**Chapter 7: The End of the World – Skeeter Davis**

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

His belly happily full with warm stew and more than a few beers, Harry ambled along sedately with Barney Rook, enjoying the clear skies and warm weather as he surveyed how the settlement was getting along. People everywhere were energized and smiled at him, stopping their work for a moment to share a few words with the wizard. Overall, despite the threat looming over them, Harry was pleased at how Salem was prospering. Daphne joined him a short time later, her easy smile lifting his spirits even further.

Nearing the gate, Harry spotted several men and women in Minutemen livery loading their brahmin for the return trip back to one their settlements. He walked over and spoke with the provisioners for a time, exchanging pleasantries until a shout from the walls drew his attention. The massive steel doors swung open easily to reveal a wistfully smiling Luna and an ever scowling Soleil.

"Luna! Welcome back. It's good to see you."

"Hello Harry, Hello Barney. It's nice to be back. It's like coming home."

"Um, this is home Luna."

"That's nice."

Soleil rolled her eyes dramatically, though Harry could see that despite her show of irritation at Luna's ephemeral ways, her body language toward the slight witch showed that she was fond of her. It was an interesting match to say the least, the towering dark skinned amazon-like woman with the willowy Luna, their personalities as opposite as one could imagine. Still, they seemed to get on and complemented each other quite well during their forays out into the Commonwealth.

"We're not staying long." Soleil added tersely.

"Oh?" Harry asked, directing his question to Luna.

"Just came to clean up and say hello to friends. I want to visit some of the other settlements too, such interesting people around. Like that soldier, Roger." Luna's smile widened as she directed that last bit to Soleil, who arched an eyebrow at the less than subtle hint.

"He was… nice." Soleil muttered.

"You did giggle an awful while you were with him. I almost checked in on you to make sure you weren't being attacked by nargles." Luna murmured, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Giggle? Really?" Harry asked, astounded at the mental picture.

Finally unsettled, the dark woman blushed furiously, "He found my tickle spot. That's it."

"He must have found it several times during the night." Luna lowered her voice to Harry, "It kept me up all night."

"Don't we have something we need to be doing?" Soleil broke in, her embarrassment having reached its apex.

"Not really." Harry and Luna said together, to Barney's ever growing chuckles.

"Well, find something." Soleil growled through gritted teeth.

Wiping his eyes surreptitiously, "You know, Susan and Vincent are heading to Starlight. If you haven't been there yet, maybe you can tag along?" Harry offered diplomatically.

"Oh, that would be nice. Let's do that." Luna remarked, moving to leave. "See you later Harry, Barney."

Soleil didn't farewell them; instead directing meaningful glares at the two and nodding respectfully at Daphne, who had had the sense to keep her mouth shut.

As soon as the two left hearing range, Daphne broke out in barely controlled giggles, her eyes tearing up as she unleashed the pent up hilarity.

"Good for Roger." Harry murmured with a smile, remembering the lone Minuteman fondly.

Harry grinned foppishly at Daphne's struggle to control her laughter as Barney excused himself, telling them that he wants to detail some Salem militia to escort Susan and Luna on their trip. Harry waved him on and led a still shaking Daphne back to his apartment. He knew that George would be busy all day with Will working on their idea to transform the fishing trolleys and tugs into flying ships like the Constitution. That meant that they would have the room all to themselves, and he had less than honorable intentions for his lady.

An hour later, the pair were relaxing in a tub of almost scalding water, the room filled with swirling steam as they lounged together. Harry sighed happily, the pent up passion he had been husbanding for the past several days finally sated for the time being.

He had barely locked the door before Daphne was on him, and they had made love with an unrestrained, frenetic energy that could have very well ended in injury. Harry had had the presence of mind to cast a quick charm to shield the room against the sound of their 'activities' from escaping and potentially disturbing any of the other men who lived in the building. A good thing too, for Daphne was not shy about voicing her pleasure and as it turned out, neither was he.

The glow of post-coital bliss surrounded them both, Harry gently tracing the contours of her languorously dangling leg with a soft washcloth.

"How about we just stay here forever." Daphne murmured, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the attention Harry was paying to her wet and naked body.

"Aside from getting very pruny, eventually the water will get cold." Harry remarked with a grin.

"That's what wands are for." Daphne laughed.

"No, THIS is what wands are for." Harry splashed water everywhere as he pulled Daphne closer to him, her wet body sliding against his and driving him nearly mad with need.

"Yep, you're right, this is definitely what wands are for." She murmured lustfully as she felt his ardor growing between her legs. "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you happy to see me?"

Harry showed her his answer, the water from their tub splashing all over the floor as he demonstrated just how happy he was.

* * *

 **POV: Jeremiah**

His daughter Ivey was strung up with barbed wire over his scrying pool, the dark liquid seemingly roiling with awareness at the agony playing out above it. He stalked around his errant progeny, his mood dark at the sobs escaping from the young woman, each one punctuated with fresh pain as the barbs dug into her flesh.

"I really wish you'd be quiet, normally I would enjoy the crying but I AM trying to think."

He sighed profoundly, as one of the few magically gifted children he had managed to father, he had no interest in killing her, though he had to be firm with his children and let them know when he was less than pleased. Still, she had provided a wealth of valuable information regarding the wizard he had scryed at the General Atomics Factory.

He was powerful, and a skilled duelist to so easily overpower Ivey. And her mention of not one but two attractive young witches that accompanied him nearly made him forgive her failure. Nearly. She had lost one of his facilities in the Commonwealth, the forces and material within representing a fair amount of his strength.

"Gustav! Get in here."

The doors to his private sanctum screeched open and the man, still leashed within the penitent engine, howled in fresh pain as the barbs tugged at his flesh whenever the chassis moved. The powerful suit marched and stood obediently before the dark wizard, Gustav breathing heavily with the exertion.

"I have good news for you!" Jeremiah announced happily, "Ivey here will be taking your place for a time.

Jeremiah winced as he was interrupted by a fresh deluge of sobbing cries from the girl, his mouth drawing tight in irritation.

"Try not to fret my dear, I won't keep you in there long. Just long enough to remember that failure has a price. It's character building!"

Oh no, he wouldn't keep her in there long at all. She was young and healthy, and with the crop of fresh slaves from the Vault, he intended to breed her as quickly as possible now that she had proven to be ineffective out in the world as his agent.

He turned back to Gustav and was about to speak again when a chorus of moaning cries interrupted him yet again. He tried to restrain his anger, as he turned to find a Rust Devil entering the sanctum, the echoes announcing his arrival tapering off as the man came to stand nervously before him.

"You have something for me child?"

The Rust Devil nodded, clearing his throat before speaking, "Yes my lord. The Gunners have sent word. They have accepted the contract and will begin right away."

"Oh good! That's very good! Thank you very much. You may go." He declared magnanimously, pleased at how well the young man obeyed as he literally sprinted from the room.

His spirits were lifting, the Gunners had agreed and for a relatively low price too. Three captured muggles from the vault and a few hundred caps were little to him but apparently represented a fair price to the Gunners, who would now venture out and endeavor to capture the ones who had thus far evaded his reach. Even if they failed, they efforts would weaken them, and make subsequent attempts all the easier.

He hummed happily to himself as he flourished his wand in Gustav's direction, the man releasing an overly profound breath of relief as the penitent engine withdrew its hooks from his flesh and allowed him to flop onto the floor unceremoniously. He simply lay there breathing, the tiny wounds in his flesh oozing blood onto the living carpet.

With another wave, the hooks shot out from the torture device and impaled Ivey, whose screams renewed as they burrowed into her flesh. They tugged at her, ripping muscle and skin as they attempted to draw her in. He paid little attention, smiling down at Gustav as the man drooled on the floor. A wet rip was accompanied by an exquisite shriek from his daughter, he looked up to find that the engine had torn a flap of skin from her stomach as it continued to try to pull her away from the barbed wire still suspending her above the scrying pool.

"Oh silly me!" he remarked, "I forgot all about those. My apologies dear."

He released the barbed bonds suspending her, allowing the engine free reign to draw her in, the clawed cage drawing closed around her. The device was designed to hold someone who had been divested of their limbs, so she was splayed awkwardly within as her limbs contorted inside the metal carriage.

"Heh, you look ridiculous dear." Jeremiah chuckled, "You'd laugh too if you could see yourself."

He waved his new guardian away, who tromped back to the gate with Ivey's fresh howls accompanying the trembling footfalls of the massive dreadnought. He turned his attention back to Gustav, who had drawn himself into a fetal position, as much as the stumps of his arms and legs would allow.

"I'm going to offer you a chance to redeem yourself, Gustav."

The man looked up at him with bleary eyes and licked his lips in anticipation. Jeremiah smiled down kindly on the failed usurper and knelt at his side.

"There is a settlement to the north. Some enterprising individuals eking out a rough but satisfying life for themselves. A patrol has been observing them for some time and even report that their seekers react, meaning that there is at least one magical living there."

Jeremiah sighed, as if in regret, "Unfortunately, these people are abominations. I can't have them continuing to pollute the new world we're trying to build. I need you to go there, capture whatever magicals are there so I can study them. Murder the rest."

Gustav panted in excitement at the opportunity, the sadist within him writhing with pleasure at the thought of inflicting pain on others for a change. The relief of being free from the penitent engine, even for a short time, made him nearly cry with joy.

Jeremiah patted Gustav's head, pleased with the honest rehabilitation his engine had secured on the formerly recalcitrant Rust Devil.

"Succeed, and I will allow you to die in peace." Jeremiah announced.

Gustav nodded vigorously.

"I knew you would agree! Now about your limbs… you can't very well be my hand without any hands!"

Jeremiah leviosa'd the stumpy torso and pulled him along gently to his lab, a well-appointed room adjacent to his throne room. He laid him gently on a table and summoned his nurses, four mechanically augmented women whose eyes were sewn shut. They staggered to the table in a grotesque mimicry of life, their half-naked bodies on display beneath their elaborately naughty nurse outfits. They whispered sibilantly, the nonsensical words interspersed with soft moans as they jerked and twitched.

Gustav eyed the women hungrily, as the pain from his confinement eased, he felt his appetites for other sensations returning.

Noting the look in his eyes, Jeremiah decided to be generous, "Once we've put you back together, you can have some fun with them." He gestured to the nurses.

He didn't bother anesthetizing the man as the woman excised the healed flesh on his stumps to prepare them for transplants. He hummed to himself as Gustav screamed, examining the robotic limbs that his minions had prepared for him. He eyed them critically and compared them to the writhing body on the table, discarding one after another until he found the two arms and two legs he needed.

The procedure went well, and soon Gustave stood again on robotic limbs designed to rend and tear. Jeremiah walked around him, admiring the work and nodding in satisfaction. Gustav stood still, his tears drying on his cheeks as he awaited his master's pleasure.

"Yes. This will do nicely" He waved a wand over the man and healed the rending surgical wounds so that the limbs would stay attached rather than rip themselves free as soon as his agent tried to move.

Gustav shuddered as he took his first (relatively) pain free breath.

"I'll give you an hour with them." Jeremiah indicated the nurses, "I need to get your assistants ready anyway. Just be ready to leave once your time is up. I want this done soon."

Gustav nodded enthusiastically, his trousers already beginning to bulge as he eyed the twitching coterie of female flesh. At Jeremiah's nod, they moved forward and moaned as they ran their hands over his flesh, hot mouths pressing themselves and tasting his body as the man shivered with delight. The wizard glided from the lab to the wet slurping sounds as the nurses pleasured his servant, his thoughts already moving to the hunter killer robots awaiting him in storage. He hadn't had the chance to unleash his latest creations yet and he was excited to try out his emulation of the cursed Mechanists robo-brains.

He slippered feet whispered on the cold metal floor of the storage space, his breath misting before him as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. Chiding himself, he casted a dim 'lumos' and navigated between the robotic bodies dangling from chains hanging from the ceiling. The chains tinkled as the bodies swayed with his passage, his eyes peering ahead at the four golems he had recently finished.

He ran a hand over one of them, breathing in sharply as he cut himself on its barbed skin. His eyes gleamed with delight as he smeared his blood over the automatron, the eyes of the tortured settler who now composed the creature's face following his movements. They stood at 7 feet in height and were built much like the succubus model assaultron that Ivey had used as her personal guard. They had bladed crests rising out from their backs and were covered in rusty barbs. Because Jeremiah found it amusing, he had kept the faces attached to the settlers he had harvested to provide brains for the devices, pleased that his research in the dark arts enabled him to bypass the difficulty of integrating the biological matter with his machinery.

Bereft of all personality with the generous use of 'obliviate' charms (he couldn't very well have any lingering morality conflict with his orders) they stood slack jawed and frozen, awaiting his commands.

He smeared more of his blood on the others, chanting all the while, infusing them with a measure of his dark power. Merely being in their presence would inspire fear in all who beheld them, not that their appearance wasn't frightening enough. He considered other methods of further augmenting them, but decided against it, as his work had already nearly consumed the hour he had promised Gustav.

Commanding his hunter-killers to follow, he returned to the lab, waiting patiently while Gustav finished. The man shuddered as he spent his release into the nurse he grasped by the hips, the moaning desecration of female flesh writhing beneath him.

"Ah, just in time." Jeremiah announced happily.

Gustav turned to him, releasing his hold on the slave and standing straight in front of his master. The dark wizard chuckled as he saw the gleam in the man's eye, sure that Gustav would do his utmost to see his will done.

"These will be your helpers." Jeremiah swept his arms wide, indicating the four golems, "Go forth and do the work. Please me, and perhaps I will let you take the nurses one more time before your eternal rest."

Gustav's face contorted with hunger and hurried from the chamber, heedless of his nudity as he gathered up the robots in his wake to unleash his brand of sadistic terror on the settlement to the north.

* * *

 **POV: Susan Bones**

The new day glowed brightly through her window, birdsong rousing her from her pleasant sleep and putting her in the right state of mind for the start of her journey. Travelling to a nearby settlement to trade for building materials was not much of an adventure compared to the harrowing tales that Harry often told, but it suited her just fine.

Bathing and dressing quickly, she pulled her lengthening hair into a ponytail as she walked out of the women's apartments, blinking as she ran into Vincent who was calmly waiting for her.

"Good morning, Susan." He called out brightly.

"Hello Vincent." She answered with a smile.

"Luna and Soleil are going to meet us at the diner for a quick breakfast before we head out."

"Oh that's nice of them."

Vincent paused for a moment, "Luna said they were coming with us. They didn't tell you?"

"No, but the more the merrier. I pretty much just stayed in my room after the meeting yesterday, thought to get plenty of rest before the trip."

"Good thinking, some of the boys and I stayed up playing darts after my shift ended. I left early to get some rest too… had nothing at all to do with losing 30 caps to Barney on the last game."

"I hope you didn't spend all your money, I hear that Starlight is the biggest trading hub in the Northwest Commonwealth. Maybe you can pick some new clothes are something."

"Maybe… if you help me pick something." Vincent replied, his tone carrying a little more weight than the innocent statement implied.

Susan blushed slightly, "I'd be happy to. Ready to get going?"

They walked in companionable silence to the diner, the bulk of the day's traffic having already eaten their breakfast and headed out to get on with their day. They made their way to the booth where Luna and Soleil were already seated, tucking into a breakfast of beans, eggs and leftover sausage that had been grilled.

The matron waddled over and set down two plates for them, smiling at their thanks as she poured coffee for Vincent and tea for Susan.

They chatted while they ate, or rather Susan, Vincent and Luna chatted while Soleil sat in stony silence. Finishing their plates, they made their way to the gate where Barney had told them he'd have men waiting to escort them.

Adjusting her pack, Susan shielded her eyes as the small caravan exited the settlement, a shiver taking her as she passed beneath the shadow of the wall. The gates boomed shut behind them, and Susan had to gulp to repress the mild sense of dread she felt at the sound. Luna skipped ahead while Soleil growled along behind her, her longer legs swiftly catching up to the light witch and moving ahead to take point. The three Salem militia spread out on either side, watching the surrounding area carefully even though they were still in sight of Salem's walls.

They stopped to rest late into midday, climbing up the bluff that surrounded Tenpines on three sides. The Minutemen on guard waved cheerfully at the troupe, Luna skipping up the guard tower to talk to the man, much to his surprise. Susan chuckled at the man's discomfort as Luna asked him deeply personal questions for no apparent reason as the rest of them walked past the original shack (which now served as the Minutemen's office) and into the settlement proper.

Tenpines was built right on the edge of the cliffs to the east; aside from the shack that the original brother and sister had lived in, there were three new buildings. A long three story building was built on the edge of the cliff, the bottom floor allowing access the guard posts that overlook the cliffs as well as a well-tended bar, soft music wafting out from the old-world jukebox within. The top two floors were long hallways that had the bulk of the living space for the residents, each settler allowed the luxury of personal space, like tiny single room apartments.

The central building was more of a wide wooden pavilion with a few stands for entrepreneurs to hawk their wares and a recreational area with a pool table and plenty of comfortable seats for the settlers to relax. Built above it, more family oriented rooms were located.

The last building looked like a burnt out shell of the lone house that had stood here when the bombs fell over 200 years ago. The walls had been patched and a new roof added on but the southern-most wall was left off to allow ventilation. The building housed the settlement's generator and workbenches, even now the hammer and clang of industry issued forth as men and women repaired tools or broke down salvage.

The group walked up the wooden steps to the restaurant/bar, Susan gasping in relief as she pulled her heavy backpack off of her tired shoulders. Vincent sidled up to the bar where a weary looking ghoul idly wiped down the already clean surface. He perked up a little at the new customers and greeted them with a gravelly voice.

The group relaxed and ate lunch there, parting with a few caps to preserve their supplies. They left shortly after noon, heading south along the train tracks that eventually passed fairly close to Starlight. Thankfully, the Minutemen had cleared Bedford station and a small crew had stayed on guard while shirtless men labored to load massive stone blocks onto railcars for delivery to Starlight.

Luna and Susan stopped long enough to lend their magical aid to the men's work, who were thrilled at the magical display and appreciative of the pretty young witches' relieving them of much of the work they had in store. They moved on to more than a few whistles and catcalls, to which Susan blushed furiously, Luna smiled ignorantly and Vincent's growled jealously. Soleil took it in her stride and shook her head at the dark expression on Vincent's face. She shoulder checked him as she walked by, shaking him from his black mood and forcing him to hurry to catch up.

Vincent's mood lightened considerably when Susan looked up and smiled at him, the simple gesture putting a bounce back into his step as they approached the entrance to Starlight. Despite the things that Susan had seen, she was awestruck by what the muggles had accomplished here. The old drive in was almost fully restored though it served a very different purpose than it had in its heyday.

The main entrance to the settlement were two roads that passed under the 'wings' of the pre-war building that once served movie snacks. These days, the wings are enclosed and reinforced with guard stations and turrets mounted on top. The minutemen on guard waved the group through as they approached, recognizing the outfits worn by the Salem militia.

The eastern side of the theatre was dominated by a series of four story apartment buildings of fairly good construction (considering that they used scrap wood and steel to put them together.) Further east, the land had been tilled in preparation for crops to be planted, with marker flags further out still to delineate where the stone for the walls should go.

The old movie screen was still intact and served as a massive curtain wall protecting the west side of the settlement. Susan could see the tiny figures of men and women walking along the top. The formerly empty space in between the buildings, where pre-war movie goers once parked to enjoy the theater, was a riot of colors and noises, as people from all over this part of the Commonwealth, laughed, argued and traded with one another.

"Shouldn't be too hard at all to find the goods we need!" Vincent had to shout to be heard over the clamor.

"It might take all day though." Susan shouted back, noting the barely controlled chaos and seeming lack of any kind of rhyme or rhythm to the numerous stalls and vendors.

The group decided to split up, the three militiamen securing lodging for them while Susan and Vincent went in search of a junk trader. Luna and Soleil had inexplicably disappeared at some point during their planning, but Susan wasn't concerned at their absence. Luna was often distracted by something and there were plenty of things to be distracted by here.

Susan stayed close to Vincent as they pushed their way through the noisy throng, eyes peering in every direction searching for the vendors they needed. Susan had been told to find a fellow named Sheffield, a former drunk who had turned his life around and ran a successful caravan business in Starlight.

Susan felt Vincent place a hand protectively on her back and she couldn't help but feel a thrill as his strong hands settled comfortably on her body. He guided her gently as they made their way through the tumult, avoiding the shouting merchants who thrust various goods in their faces and meat hawkers who tempted them with freshly grilled kabobs. Susan wondered though, where did they get squirrel meat from? She hadn't seen a squirrel since coming to the Commonwealth.

Eventually they found Sheffield, who was happy to meet folks from Salem, and promised to deliver the needed supplies there on his next run for one of their 'owls'. That business concluded, they mingled in the market, Susan even fulfilling Vincent's request to find him some new clothes. She purchased a sundress in remarkably good condition and wondered how she and Vincent would look together in their new outfits. She blushed at the mild fantasy and absently wandered up to the old projector room. To her surprise, the projector was still there and despite the centuries of dust and neglect, looked fairly intact.

Vincent watched curiously as she brandished her wand and uttered a 'reparo' charm on the device. What little damage time had ravaged the equipment with were cleared away in moments, though the machine didn't seem to do anything.

"Probably just needs power." Vincent noted, "I'll see if I can find someone to run a cable out to it from the genny."

The sun had set by the time Vincent and the mechanic finished running the thick cable up the stairs to the old projector. Susan flipped the switch and yelped as a shower of sparks erupted in front of her. She fell back against Vincent's chest whose arms instinctively wrapped around her. With a whir of artifice, the projector came to life and shot a beam onto the movie screen. Noise erupted from the speakers like a screeching cat before resolving into melodramatic music. The title splashed up on the screen.

"Casablanca?" Vincent read, "What's that?"

"A movie that was old even in my time." Susan answered.

The crowd had largely dispersed by then but was reforming in astonishment as the noise and light attracted people from all around the settlement. People were entranced by the 'movie' that they had only heard tales about and were settling in to watch, getting comfortable with whatever was at hand. The two climbed down from the projector room and walked out onto the 'wings' of the Starlight building, the elevation giving them a perfect view over the closed down stalls of the marketplace. Vincent somehow found a chair and set it down with a flourish, indicating that Susan should take it. She hesitated, looking around for where Vincent would sit when he took the initiative and sat down, pulling Susan onto his lap. She giggled, forgetting that she was supposed to be nervous and looked deeply in his eyes for a long moment.

"Hey up there! Did you fix this up?" A voice from below called out, snapping Susan from her reverie.

She jolted up and felt faint for a moment, all the blood having rushed from her head. Vincent protested wordlessly as she pulled away, and without a word, she hurried off to get some fresh air and to stop her head from spinning quite so much.

* * *

"What in the world is that?" The conscript whispered, indicating the riot of sound and light coming from the settlement ahead.

"How in the hell should I know?" The sergeant replied, his patience for the young idiot having been depleted 20 miles and 500 questions ago.

"Stand down sergeant." The Lieutenant and commander of this patrol hissed, intent on the disturbance coming from Starlight, "this may very well be what we were looking for."

A lone woman was walking just on the outskirts of the settlement, a pretty thing with dark red hair and pale skin. She seemed lost in thought and oblivious to the Gunner patrol who lay mere yards away. The Lieutenant considered taking her captive when he spotted the gently tapered length of wood secured to her thigh. That sealed it, she was one of the 'special' people that their latest client was looking for. Tapping the sergeant on the shoulder, he pointed emphatically at the woman, the sergeant's grin gleaming in the moonlight as he nodded.

"Plaza, this is Romeo Two." The sergeant whispered into his radio, "We need prisoner extraction 1 click south of Starlight."

"Copy Romeo Two, bird is in the air. Plaza out."

They leapt up from their cover, the conscript cursing as his shin barked against a rock and giving away their position. The redhead looked up with alarm and saw the dark shapes rushing toward her and squealed in shock. Her panicked first reaction was to pull her wand and send a stun toward the lead shape, the Gunner stumbling in a heap as the magic slammed into him. The others doubled their speed as she turned to run, catching her wildly flailing limbs in their iron grasps.

"Help!" the woman screamed, making the sergeant curse under his breath as he rocketed a fist into her face, silencing the woman.

Too late, the Minutemen on duty heard the distress and bathed the patrol in spotlights. An alarm wailed as the Gunners shoved the unconscious woman behind cover and began firing at the lights and the guards who were rushing to their posts.

* * *

 **POV: Vincent**

Vincent had waffled between following her and apologizing or waiting for her to come back. He had eventually steeled himself to go after her and got up to do just that when he heard the unmistakable sound of her screaming. He froze for an instant, but was propelled into action when her voice suddenly cut off, dread reaching icy fingers through his heart.

"Get on the radio! Tell the General we need him!"

"Send the owl! Salem will send help!"

He ran in the direction of the shouting guards and the sporadic but increasing volume of gunfire, the half dozen minutemen trading potshots with the equal number of Gunners hiding in the field to the south. One of the guards cursed loudly as a bullet struck his shoulder, the man falling back and nearly colliding with a panicking Vincent. He paid the wounded Minuteman no mind and rushed heedlessly toward the danger, his eyes going wild as he imagined the worst.

He finally spotted her, her ponytail undone and her dark red hair having fallen over her face like a shroud. Wailing as his heart leapt up into his throat, he slid down the shallow gully the Gunners had shoved her in, bowling over the wide-eyed conscript who was guarding her. Vincent drove an elbow into the man's face and pulled the Gunner's laser pistol from his stunned grasp and shot him repeatedly in the face with it.

The conscript fell back, his face a burnt and bloody ruin as Vincent scooped up his Susan and ran back toward the settlement.

He barely felt the bullets striking his back, his focus entirely on the woman nestled in his arms. He dropped to his knees next to a guard post, the Minuteman manning it pulling him and Susan into cover.

"Holy shit! You're bleeding all over the place!"

"Check on her!" Vincent begged.

"But you…"

"Check on her!" He roared, frantic.

The minuteman looked over the still unconscious woman, checking over her carefully despite the bullets whizzing over their heads and plinking off their protective defilade.

"She's fine, just got knocked out with a hell of a punch."

Vincent tried to take a breath in relief, but found that his lungs didn't want to obey.

"Hey! HEY!" He heard the Minuteman shout, as he toppled over with a groan.

He lay there and stared into Susan's face, aside from the deepening red of the bruise on her face, she looked like she was sleeping. He poured all the love he had for her in that moment, reaching out with a trembling hand to stroke her cheek. His eyes failed him then, and he whispered her name before the darkness swallowed him.

The Minuteman cursed under his breath as the man died, the stimpack he had been about to use clattering from his fingertips. He looked up sharply as a strange 'whoomp whoomp whoomp' sound approached, the tiny flame of his hope flickering and dying as he saw Gunner aircraft circle around to present the ominous maw of side mounted miniguns. He had the presence of mind to grab the woman and drag her further back into cover before the Gunners unleashed hell on the settlement.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Her lips were warm and wet against his, their efforts to dress for a late dinner stymied by their rising passion. What little clothes they had managed up until that point was quickly removed and thrown aside as Harry pushed Daphne back onto the bed, her eyes twinkling as she giggled with delight.

He settled on top of her, their kisses becoming deeper as their hunger for each other reached a crescendo when the door burst open with a bang!

"Harry! Starlight is under attack! Oh, hi Daphne." George shouted, his words jerking them both upright in an instant.

"Luna! Susan! We have to go now!"

"Yeah!" George agreed, "But maybe put some clothes on first?"

Salem was in full alert, as if someone had kicked over an ant hill, Barney yelling at nearly a dozen of his militia as they ran for the Constitution.

"Captain! How soon can we launch?" Harry shouted, having hopped on his broom and flew directly onto the frigate's deck.

"It will be some time sir!" The robot wailed, "The engineer and that red headed wizard were poking through the engines, they hadn't put it back together yet!"

Harry cursed, that meant that there would be no help from them for the time being. Still, they had a few brooms and four wizards/witches could make one hell of a difference in a fight.

"Harry! What's happening?" Piper yelled, as she hurried up to him, pulling her red coat on hurriedly.

"Starlight is under attack! We have to go now! Help Ironsides get the ship ready!"

Piper nodded as Harry rocketed into the air, George, Daphne and Lilith quickly following him.

"Wait… what the hell do I know about rocket engines?"

* * *

 **POV: Red Rocket**

The sunlight glowed a golden halo around her smiling face, softening the edges and lending to her already beautiful visage an angelic aspect. She smiled coyly and murmured, her words a meaningless mumble to him. He reached up and cradled her face in his hands, bringing it down to brush his lips against hers.

"WAKE UP!"

The pleasant dream dissolved with mournful alacrity, cold and dark reality slamming him awake. Her face, so unlike his dream, was creased and worried.

"Please wake up! People are shouting through the radio about an attack!"

Jonathan let himself be pulled upright by Hermione, who huffed at the exertion. It took him only a moment to collate what she had said with the frenzied screeches issuing from the radio and the insistent beeping of his pip-boy.

Hermione nearly squawked in surprise as Jonathan threw back his blankets and strode confident and powerfully to his arming chamber, heedless of his nakedness. Hermione gaped after him, the contours of his body lit only by the soft candlelight that the super soldier seemed fond of. She shook her head of the image, her cheeks flushing crimson as she fought to catch her breath.

She caught up to him as he pulled on his trousers, beating a harried looking Preston Garvey by a scant second.

"General! Did you hear?" Preston demanded respectfully, in between haggard breaths.

"I did, did you just run here from Sanctuary?" Jonathan asked as he pulled on his boots.

"No, I was on patrol to the north near the vault with Marcy and Jun. I ran straight here while Jun went to grab some men from Sanctuary and Marcy went to do the same at Abernathy."

The General nodded, thankful that Preston had a good mind for such business, "Get on the radio and have them meet us at Drumlin Diner. We can move in force from there to 'sess out what's happening."

Preston threw the General a quick salute before rushing out, leaving him alone with Hermione for a moment. He ignored her for a time, busily girding himself for battle in the matte black regalia he favored. She watched in fascination as his adept fingers cinched straps and fastened buckles with practiced ease, the muscles of his arms and back flexing like steel cords as he hefted the weight of his gear. He took up a brutal looking assault rifle before fixing her with a determined gaze.

"Are you ready?" He murmured, his eyes fixed on a point somewhat above her head.

She turned around, confused at what he was looking at before turning back towards him, "Um… yes?"

He nodded and moved out brusquely, pausing at the door and glancing back to make sure she was following.

Confusion still clouding her mind, she shook it off and moved to join him, her wand held ready in her hand as the pair jogged south through Concord. Hurried footsteps heralded Preston catching up, the Minuteman pulling his hat low to keep it from blowing off. Roger seemingly materialized from thin air as he stepped out from a shadowy doorway, falling in step with the trio with barely a whisper. Hermione nearly gasped in shock, though Jonathan seemed to take it in stride as he didn't so much as flinch.

All the traveling they had done recently had done wonders for her stamina, her breath not nearly as labored as it would have been months earlier as they stumbled to a halt outside of Trudy's restaurant. (She once ran a junk trading post, but had to shift her business as Starlight became a more popular stop for caravans.)

The crew found Trudy and her son cowering inside the diner, peering fearfully through the open windows at the percussive echoes of gunfire lighting up the sky to the east. Trudy screeched as Jonathan's shadow fell over her, the older woman falling onto her rump with a hand clutching her chest.

"Damn it boy! You trying to give me a heart attack?!"

"Sorry Trudy." He muttered, though his attention was riveted on the distant combat taking place in front of him.

"What the hell is going on over there?!" Trudy demanded, her initial shock giving way to her natural tendency toward bitterness.

"We're here to find out." He answered simply, his eyes drinking in the scene. Hermione could almost hear the gears in his head clicking as they calculated the data he was collecting.

"Starlight is being assaulted by ground and air from their south. Ballistic and laser weaponry." His words were interrupted by a long screel of sound, like a massive zipper being drawn across the sky, "That was a minigun. We need to move in fast and reinforce the settlement, where are those other men?!"

As if summoned by magic, Jun and Marcy ran up the road leading to the diner ahead of more than a dozen Minutemen. They were a good lot, as they seemed hardly winded after their break neck pace from Sanctuary and Abernathy.

All business, the group saluted the General as he swept out from the diner, his hard eyes glittering as he surveyed the group.

"Preston, take command and lead them into Starlight from the guard station on the side closest to us. The attack is taking place along the opposite side and whoever it is hasn't thought to spread out from there yet. Reinforce them while I flank. Hermione will go with you."

"Wait, what?" Hermione spluttered indignantly, "I'm not one of your soldiers to be…"

"You go with them, it's safer." Though his voice was soft, something in his face stopped her protests. A pleading look in his eyes seemed to transfix her and render her budding arguments moot. She nodded weakly and kicked herself at the way his glowing smile of relief made her heart stutter.

* * *

Screams competed with the gunfire, throaty wails of pain reaching their ears between every retort of a laser or bullet. The few remaining minutemen sweated despite the chill as they hunkered down and returned what fire they could. The turrets on this side of the settlement had acquitted themselves well, cutting down nearly a dozen Gunners before their vertiberd shot them to pieces. If only they had had time to install one of those missile turrets, it would have made short work of even the Gunner's fearsome airpower.

Still, the Gunners kept their cool, spreading their forces out and advancing slowly but inexorably toward the settlement. A figure in power armor burst out from behind one of the smoking ruins of a guard station, a tattered Minuteman falling away from the exploding splinters of wood with a cry of anguish. The power armored Gunner roared through his suit speakers, the body of a woman draped insensate over his shoulder barely stirring even as he rocketed away.

'This is it,' he thought, 'this is where our dreams come crashing down.'

There were nearly two score Gunners out there, growing bolder by the moment as they realized just how badly the defenders had been mauled. Of the dozen Minutemen who stood garrison here, less than half remained. His weariness seemed multiplied tenfold under the weight of impending defeat, his eyes drifting to the motionless bodies of his friends and fellow minutemen lying ignomiously in the dust. He cranked his laser musket and sighted down the jury rigged sight, hoping to slow down the Gunner with the captive. He had seen a man risk everything to pull her from their clutches, and it seemed a shame to see his mission fail.

With a percussive 'sprang!', his laser shot slammed into the Gunner's knee joint, but to his chagrin, the shot didn't seem to slow him down in the slightest. Someone else must have gotten the same idea, as the spot he had just fired at exploded in molten metal and flesh just before the rifle retort echoed through the battle field. It must have been a .308 to do that much damage, for the Gunner wailed tinnily from his helmet speakers and collapsed onto the ground, his charge slipping from his shoulder in an ungainly heap.

The man looked around, lifting his automatic rifle while trying to regain his feet. Another shot rang out, sparks flying from the side of his helmet and throwing his head to the side with the force. With a shout, he angrily directed a squad of Gunners to lay down suppressive fire while he pulled himself toward their scant cover, the captive forgotten for the moment.

The assault upon them slackened, the diminished fire proving a godsend, allowing the five Minutemen to gain better cover and quit the burning wreckage before the smoke did more to put them down than the Gunner's fire. A trio of frag grenades flew out from the Gunner's position, forcing the defenders to huddle in their cover as much as possible. He jammed himself as small as possible behind a wooden tower, praying that the rotten lumber and rusted metal would provide enough protection from the grenades. He breathed a sigh of relief as the explosives detonated, showering him with bits of debris but doing no lasting harm.

He hazarded a glance out over the fields and cursed as the Gunners used the distraction to press their assault, a full dozen of the mercenaries rushing forward. He squeezed his eyes shut as he awaited the searing pain that announced a bullet or laser lancing through his flesh. He heard the cries of pain and the surge of gunfire which nearly drowned out the hammering of his heart.

A few moments past and yet he still drew breath, daring to open an eye in confusion. He gasped as he witnessed a laser shot cut through a rampaging Gunner's neck, his head rolling free from his shoulders in a macabre display. The others, the six or so remaining, dropped to their stomachs as a hurricane of rounds tore the air above them. Astonished, he nearly wet himself when a man plopped down next to him, his dark skin shining with perspiration.

"Preston Garvey." The man announced, by way of introduction.

"Yeah, yeah. I know who you are." He stammered, shock getting the best of him.

"You've held them off well, you should be proud. I know I am. Now we just need to finish this fight and get them off of Minuteman territory!" Preston proclaimed fiercely, his teeth bared.

His flagging spirit soared at the man's presence, and the dozen more Minutemen who rushed up to take defensive positions. They kept the Gunners in the field pinned, though the aircraft that was circling about made this anything but a done deal. He looked up at it, and tugged on Preston's sleeve nervously as he realized that he was staring straight at the maw of its side mounted minigun.

Preston opened his mouth, but his words got caught in his throat as the vertibird was suddenly consumed in a massive ball of fire. A whooping man swooped past on a broom of all things, ducking beneath the craft before circling around. Another blast of fire struck the ailing ship, as a second, third and fourth person on brooms surged into the fray, blasts of energy whipping from their wands. The Minutemen cheered as the vertibird, roiling black smoke billowing from it, groaned and fell to the ground in a mighty crash.

Hermione dropped down beside the still form of Susan, panic rising in her chest as she noted her friend laying like a ragdoll. She rolled her over and listened to her chest, releasing her pent up breath as she heard the strong beat of the woman's heart. Angrily, she blasted a charging Gunner in the stomach, bending him in half and sending him screaming away through the air. She summoned a shielding charm to protect them both from the shots that continued all around them, albeit much more sporadic as the Gunner's came to realize that the battle was lost.

Harry, Daphne and George landed next to Hermione, their questioning gazes and distressed expressions only mildly assuaged by her affirming nod toward Susan. Their heads jerked almost as one as the burning wreckage of the vertibird shifted, the entire mass of twisted metal lifting up as a figure pushed the aircraft off himself.

They gasped at the man, his power armor sparking with near uselessness as he snarled at them, his face a rictus of pain and fury. Harry strode forward to meet him but felt a powerful hand restraining him. He looked up to see that Jonathan had somehow joined them, his sniper rifle held loosely in his hands while his eyes were locked upon the Gunner emerging from the wreck.

"He's mine." He announced quietly, unslinging his combat rifle and letting it drop gently at his feet. The Gunner, seeing who challenged him, grinned widely, the white of his teeth a sharp contrast to the blackened and bloodied flesh of his face.

"Well, well! If it isn't the prodigal son! My dear brother returns at last!" The Gunner shouted, almost cheerfully.

"I told you that the next time we met, I would kill you." Jonathan replied, the coldness of his tone actually sending chills down Harry's spine.

"You will try." The Gunner laughed, as he pried himself free from the useless power armor frame.

Harry blinked, for in one moment they stood yards apart and in the next, they were inches from each other, fists and feet a blur as they fought in a whirlwind of hate. It was as if they had stopped the flow of time, and inserted themselves into a faster frame of reference, they moved faster than any human should, certainly faster than any muggle he had ever seen.

A fist thundered into Jonathan's jaw, Samuel's feint nearly succeeding in putting him off-balance. He swerved to the left, taking some of the power from the blow and using the momentum from the spin to send his leg whirling to crash into Samuel's side.

The Gunner whoofed and rolled away, regaining his feet next to a piece of burning wreckage. He grasped the hot metal in his hands, heedless of his flesh sizzling as he twirled it overhead. He charged forward with a roar, swinging the jagged propeller down at Jonathan' head.

The General twisted to the side and grasped Samuel's upper arm, pulling him further off balance. The Gunner stumbled for several steps, giving Jonathan a few precious moments to back up. His foot struck something metal, an old stop sign that the ages had worn away to a shiny octagon of corroded metal. Grasping the pole, he heaved it straight out of the ground, a massive block of dirt and concrete tearing free. He swung the makeshift weapon just in time to catch Samuel in the side, blasting his propeller blade wide and sending the man skidding to the ground.

With him kneeling in the dirt at his feet, Jonathan quickly raised the bar overhead and brought it down with a scream of rage. Samuel leaned to the right, the whistling passage of the road sign tousling his hair, and drove his fist into Jonathan's crotch. The Minuteman groaned and fell back, his armor having protected him just enough to keep the strike from being fully debilitating. Still, he fought back the nausea and blinked away the sudden surge of tears. He felt more than saw Samuel slam into him, his powerful hands seeking out his eyes. With a desperate twist, he forced his arm around his brother's neck and grasped his own wrist to apply pressure to Samuel's neck. They fell in a heap, with the Gunner clawing desperately at his forearm, drawing crimson lines along the skin.

Jonathan strained with all his might, his eyes shut tight and the muscles in his jaw bunching like knotted cords of steel. Samuel's eyes bulged, the capillaries bursting against the whites and turning them into orbs of red desperation. He gasped and heaved against Jonathan's hold, his legs pumping as he sought to stand. With a primal cry, the General yanked with the last of his strength, the snap of the Gunner's neck echoing out like a shot. The man went limp in his arms and Jonathan let his body fall free. He sat on the ground, chest heaving and eyes wild for a moment, as if waiting for his brother to stand up and resume their contest.

Harry's shadow fell over him and he felt the wizard bend to bring him to his feet. He staggered upright and finally resolved his focus away from the fallen Gunner. He saw the other staring at him, mouths gaping at the titanic struggle that had just taken place before them. Tears leapt unbidden to his eyes as an image of a goofily smiling blonde boy laughed at him from the depths of his memory. Samuel had been his crèche brother, they had been of a like age and had grown up together. The General wailed in anguish, directing his emotions into an uncaring sky.

* * *

Susan came to an hour later, moaning at the throbbing pain in her head. Hermione and Daphne helped her to sit up, the bright light in the small Starlight clinic making her regret opening her eyes. Every bed was full with the moaning wounded, the single doctor having collapsed onto a stool in exhaustion.

"Easy Susan, you took quite a whollop."

"I feel all cocked up." She moaned, clutching her head miserably.

Daphne stroked her hair sympathetically, her concerned gaze falling on Hermione as if bracing against the coming agony.

"Where?" Susan swallowed past her parched throat, "Where is Vincent?"

Hermione and Daphne's faces fell, their anticipation of the question doing nothing to prepare them for the surge of sympathy that befell them.

"What?" Susan asked, her voice rising in panic, "Where is he?!"

A few moment later, Susan stared dead eyed down at the blue sheet that had been draped over Vincent's body. Hermione awkwardly patted her on the back while Daphne held tightly to Harry's hand, trying and failing to keep the tears from falling. A low moan rose, at first lost amidst the tremulous breeze but rising in volume so subtly that the onlookers nearly missed it. Susan fell forward, the others gasping at her sudden movement.

"No, no. He's not gone. We had just started. He's not gone. I didn't tell him yet. Get up Vincent! Come on now you bloody Yank! You've been bloody pining for that kiss, haven't you? Well, I'm ready now. I need you to get up. Please? Please Vincent, get up!"

Hermione couldn't stop the tears that burst forth as Susan pleaded with Vincent, her pale hands trembling as they sought out his hands beneath the sheet and drawing them forth. Susan took up one of his hands in hers and brought it to her cheek, her eyes reddening as her sorrow spilled out.

"Get up Vincent. It's time to go home. We can go for a walk. You'd like that wouldn't you? We can walk along the shore and hold hands, like this. Please Vincent. I need you to get up now. Please…"

The dam broke and Susan collapsed onto his unmoving body, great sobs wracking her body as she spent the sum of her emotions onto him, her sobs muted as she pressed her face against his cold chest.

Hermione felt strong arms wrap around her waist and she leaned back into Jonathan's embrace, heedless of the fat drops of salt water that dripped onto her neck. She turned with a moan and buried her face in his chest, her heart breaking for her friend.

* * *

Lucy Abernathy sighed to herself for the tenth time in as many minutes. Her parents had left that morning to make the journey to Diamond City and she had had to scramble to come up with a reasonable cause that she wasn't begging to come along with them. They had relented to her false moaning as she pretended to be too sick to travel, the only thing that would keep the teenager from wanting to visit the big city. Her dad had bought it, almost ruining her plans by considering putting off the trip until she 'felt' better. But her mom had looked at her with that knowing look, her eyes narrowing slightly as Lucy withered beneath her gaze, certain that she was about to be called out for her less than stellar acting.

It surprised her when Connie had turned to Blake and talked him into making the trip, easing a father's worry by reasoning that if they hurried back, they could bring back medicine for Lucy. Besides, there were plenty of others here to look in on her, and if it came to it, the doctor could check on her for them. He had relented and with a Minuteman escort, set off with Betsy to deliver a big food shipment to the great green jewel.

Now Lucy huffed in the suddenly chilly air, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited in the shadows of the old camper on the north field of Abernathy Farms. Her patience paid off as the door opened and a handsome young Minuteman, a shuttered lantern in his hand, stepped into view.

She gasped as he came in, setting down the lantern and taking her in his arms without preamble. His lips were hot on hers, their tongues twining about each other with the passion of youth as Lucy clumsily tugged at the buttons of his uniform. Her heart was in her throat as he pressed her down onto the sleeping bag she had cleaned off for their rendezvous, the heat spreading from her womanhood as his muscled body pressed down on her.

She moaned as his mouth closed on her neck, the delicious sensation sending charges of electric current surging through her body. She felt his growing ardor and nearly swooned with the well of emotions and hormones which raged through her body. After months of stolen moments and playful talk, she was ready to give herself to him.

He wasn't much older than she was, and was driven as much by instinct as anything else, lacking the experience but more than making up with it with pure enthusiasm. They were each other's firsts… and if his heart had anything to say about it, they would be each other's 'onlys'.

Their fumbling fingers and embarrassed laughter kept them from hearing the distant shouts, the sudden rocking of the camper from a distant explosion completely unheeded by the young lovers. A sudden cry of pain finally cut through the haze of their hormone fueled lust, a shirtless Lucy bolting upright with sudden fear. Even the vision of her pert breasts in the lantern light did not long distract him from the growing sounds of combat.

"On my god. We're under attack!"

* * *

 **A/N:** The Gunners attack Starlight and now Abernathy is under attack? Who could it be? Leave a review and I may be persuaded to post an update sooner rather than later…. Hehehe. Oh and sorry for killing off Vincent, I had actually gotten somewhat attached to the idea of the budding romance between him and Susan. It actually saddened me to write that bit, but that's what writing is all about, to express the full breadth of humanity that the character's experience.


	9. Chapter 8: Anything Goes

**Chapter 8: Anything Goes - Cole Porter**

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

A bleak and weary sun broke over the eastern horizon, its light not assuaging the bone deep chill that seemed reluctant to release its hold over the exhausted settlers. Harry took what warmth he could from Daphne's proximity, both of them speechless at the carnage the early morning battle had wrought. Harry looked into Daphne's tired, red-rimmed eyes and could only offer a sad smile as solace, a meager nepenthe against the loss they had suffered. Hermione had surprisingly stifled her own tears, drawing from a well of inner strength to provide Susan a much needed pillar to lean against. The two witches had followed the Salem Militiamen who had taken Vincent's body to the makeshift morgue, a grassy field made forlorn by the row of bodies that now covered it.

Luna and Soleil joined them in silence, their absence from the battle explained by the number of mole rat corpses draped over the taller woman's shoulder. Luna's head tilted to the side and her eyes reflected the sadness as they watched Susan kneel beside a cloth covered Vincent. Soleil's eyes held a wholly different emotion, for they blazed with fury at the sight. Her jaw was firmly clenched as she let fall the mole rats, her hands opening and closing as if unsure how to spend the furious energy coursing through her veins.

"They attacked early this morning." Preston broke in, having walked over when he spotted that Luna and Soleil had returned.

"From what I've been able to gather from my men, they seemed intent on kidnapping Susan. Vincent braved their fire to bring her back to our lines. We only got here just in time before the entire line of defense fell."

"How many did we lose?" Daphne murmured, not taking her eyes off of Susan's distant form.

"Fourteen in total. Seven Minutemen, three Salem Militia, three civilians and of course, Vincent." He replied somberly.

They stood in silence for a time, the quiet broken when Preston quietly murmured that he needed to find the General and moved off to do just that.

"Soleil and I will see if we can help in the clinic." Luna declared, her normally wistful nature subdued and a far more grounded woman leading Soleil away, leaving Harry and Daphne alone.

Harry sighed deeply before placing himself in front of his love, "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Daphne asked.

"I'm worried that I made a mistake. Making friends with the Minutemen. Now four of our people are dead. They are good people, "Harry quickly added, forestalling Daphne's objections, "I'm just wondering if I messed things up for our friends by sticking our necks out like this. It seems we've no shortage of enemies."

"I'm not convinced that this wouldn't have happened anyway, Harry. We haven't exactly hidden who we are. Sooner or later, someone was going to come after us. This way, at least we have friends who will stand by us."

Harry frowned, his look pensive as he formulated his next words.

"In for a penny, in for a pound." Harry sighed, "I don't disagree with you Daphne, I just can't help but feel guilty. We're standing on Minutemen ground watching four of our people being carried away in sheets that didn't have to be. But I also know that if our positions were reversed, Jon and Preston would have been there for us."

Daphne's expression softened as she cradled Harry face in her hands. She kissed him gently on the lips, effacing some of the worry lines etched in his face, "It least we won't get bored."

"Oh yeah, bugger the boring life! Between Jeremiah and his Rust Devils, The Mechanist and his army of killer robots, that crazy raider cult at Dunwich, and now the Gunners, boring will be the last thing we are."

Further debate was put on hold as a massive shadow overwhelmed them, the mighty USS Constitution finally making an appearance. Harry greeted an obviously aggrieved Captain Ironsides and Mr. Williams, the latter looking pale as he clutched his hat in grease stained hands. His eyes were drawn to the too still forms of the four militia that were being prepped for their last journey to Salem.

"Mr. Potter, sir. I'm so very sorry." The elder gentleman's voice broke as he spied Susan stroking Vincent's hair, the morning breeze making her hair halo about her head like a wild flame.

"None of us knew, Mr. Williams. It's not your fault."

Daphne cleared her throat overtly at Harry, a less than subtle prompt.

"It's not anyone's fault." Harry corrected, sensing Daphne's approving nod.

"But sir." Williams refused to relinquish his burden of guilt, however undeserved.

"If you really need someone to blame… blame them." Harry spat, jabbing a finger at the line of bodies dressed in the olive green fatigues of the Gunners.

"We didn't do a thing to bring this down upon us, yet they started this whole mess. Now, we are going to finish it!"

The others cheered their agreement, though the sound was somewhat subdued given the circumstances. Mr. William moved off to find George in all the mess and Captain Ironsides started detailing his crew to patrolling the grounds.

"Let's go find Jonathan, we need to figure out our next move."

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan**

Sweat stung his eyes and heavy grunts escaped from behind the firm line of his lips as he wrestled with the wrench, forcing the over-torqued bolt loose from the turret housing. A flash of pain erupted along his arm as the head of the bolt spun off with a protesting squeal. The sudden lack of resistance sent his arm surging against the torn housing, ripping a painful gash along his bicep that angered more than hurt the General. He swore and threw the wrench furiously, the loud clang echoing around the defense tower.

His fury spent, Jonathan sat next to the offending machinery and draped his arm over it, heedless of the blood that flowed crimson over the rusted metal. He had thought, had hoped, that tinkering with the turret, that immersing himself with something tangible he could actually do something about, would somehow divorce him from the hollow ache in his heart.

He had been horrified at Susan's heartbreak, knowing that much of it stemmed from how little time she and Vincent had had together. He thought about how Vincent, in that ages old manner, had shown just how much he had loved the quiet witch. The observations of everyone who witnessed the event had agreed, that Vincent had rushed out into certain death to bring his Susan back safely. If there were some way to talk to the dead, Jonathan was sure that Vincent would account his life well spent.

Perhaps inevitably, the parallel between the two and himself could not be shaken. He heard it in his heart like a clarion call of truth. In this world of brutality, every moment mattered. He thought of Hermione and his heart constricted in his chest, the pang of longing causing it to expand again as if to exceed the physical limitations of his biology. His breath would not come, as if his lungs were indeed compressed beneath his beleaguered heart.

"General? Are you alright?" The rising panic in Preston's voice brought him out of his self-induced torment, his lungs relaxing with a sigh and allowing him to drink in gulps of air as if he had been drowning.

Preston hurried in and knelt at his side, his eyes roving to inspect his commander for wounds. Jonathan stood shakily and conjured a small smile to reassure his over-protective friend.

"It's alright Preston. I was… I just let my emotions get the better of me for a moment."

Preston's face betrayed his suspicion, that the moment he had just caught the General in was far more egregious than a mere anxiety attack.

"This is about the people that died." Preston reasoned.

"Yes." Jon whispered, his eyes far away.

"And more." Preston continued.

Jonathan closed his eyes and cradled his face in his hands, a weary sigh escaping between his fingers being all the confirmation that Preston needed.

"I'm sorry that I don't have the words to make things better. I don't know that I'd believe them myself. And what's more, I'm afraid that I have to burden you even more."

The General looked up at Preston, steeling himself for the bad news.

"Abernathy was attacked late last night, shortly after a portion of their garrison left to reinforce us here at Starlight."

Jonathan was shocked, "Was it a coordinated action by the Gunners?"

"Thankfully no." Preston confirmed, "It was a small group of 'bots under the Mechanist. Small enough of a group that the remainder of the garrison were able to fight off with minimal casualties."

"How minimal?"

"One bit of good news in this mess, I suppose." Preston began, "Only one person was hurt, took a laser burn to the arm. One stimpack and some rest and she'll be fine. Those turrets made the difference, especially that missile turret you installed, took out the bulk of the assaulting 'bots before they even got a shot off. Left the boys with only a broken protectron and an eyebot to deal with."

The General managed a smile at that, but it was a façade, for he felt the burden weighing on him that he hadn't yet completed his mission to deal with the Mechanist.

"As soon as Starlight is secure, have the Abernathy contingent make haste back home with some supplies to help with any rebuilding they need to do. Have them take a few extra turrets from the warehouse here to beef up their defenses while we formulate a response."

Preston snapped a salute, relieved that the attack hadn't unmanned his beloved General and rushed off to fulfill his orders. He nodded in greeting as he passed Harry on the stairs, gesturing upward at the wizard's questioning glance, guessing that he was looking for the General.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry walked quietly, strangely reticent as he walked up the last few steps to the top of the defense tower. Jonathan was draped ignominiously over a battered turret, a mess of tools and bits of scrap scattered around him as if he were the epicenter of an explosion. The man looked tired, emotionally and physically spent. Harry wondered if it had anything to do with the man he had fought and killed at the battle's climax.

"General?" He prompted gently.

The man stood up and wiped his hands absently on his fatigues, doing more to add grease to his trousers than clearing the muck from his hands. Harry tried not to notice the slight tremor in those hands, swallowing down the disconcerting feeling at whatever reduced this super soldier into something resembling a mere mortal.

"Hello Harry. How are your people?" He almost whispered.

"As well as can be expected. Luna and Soleil are helping in the clinic. The others are doing what they can to repair the defenses. Hermione wants to grab that stone we have stockpiled at Bedford and finish the walls here."

"What about your…" Jonathan couldn't finish the word.

"We're taking them home." Harry murmured solemnly, referring to the fallen.

The soldier nodded at that, and gazed almost forlornly at the mangled turret. Though Harry didn't have the gift that Hermione had with Reparo charms, he brandished his wand and finished the work that Jonathan had begun. Within moments, a gleaming heavy machine gun turret chugged black smoke as it oscillated and scanned for enemy targets.

The General chuckled at how easy Harry made it look, idly kicking some of his tools with his toes.

"I wanted to talk with you, about what we are going to do about all this." Harry began.

"I'm going to do what I should have done years ago. I'm going to kill every god damned Gunner I find and raze their plaza to the ground."

"That's a good goal, but it isn't a plan. We need a plan." Harry insisted.

The General took a deep breath and fixed Harry with a focused look, "I need to finish this business with the Mechanist. We got too many distractions on the board. I hope that Hermione will, you know… help me finish this."

Harry nodded, "I think that she will. Let's all talk this out and come up with a plan. Whatever happens, we're with you."

Jonathan smiled gratefully, coming forward to grasp Harry's hand in a firm shake. They were interrupted from any further discussion as Daphne and Hermione came up the stairs and joined them.

Daphne came to stand beside Harry, wrapping her right arm almost possessively around his waist. Sympathy shined in her eyes as she regarded the haggard General, a look that was mirrored on Hermione's face.

"Who was he?" Hermione blurted out without preamble.

Jonathan seemed to know exactly who she was talking about, and to be honest, Harry was curious too.

"Samuel. He was my crèche brother." He began, turning away from them to look out over the settlement, "That means we were born in the same batch using similar genetic material. We were placed in the same training unit. Though we didn't have families, per se, our training units fulfilled that function. We were all brothers and sisters. We trained together, played together, ate our meals together, everything."

Hermione's understanding seemed to dawn on her face as it twisted into an expression of pity, her hand going for his shoulder comfortingly before she was consciously aware of the move. She went to pull away as her cheeks reddened in sudden embarrassment when he placed one of his hands atop hers. Harry watched expectantly, the moment seeming to remove itself from the normal flow of time and becoming something apart from their brutal reality.

Jonathan smiled at her and said, "I regret having to kill him, but he made his choice to betray the morals we were raised to believe in. He justified it by pointing out that those who instilled those beliefs didn't believe in them either. Truth is truth, even if spoken by a non-believer. He made his choice."

He and Hermione seemed to lock gazes for the longest time, Harry wondering if the time had finally come. But the spell was broken when the moment seemed to pass, a cloud coming over Hermione's features as she made to pull away. Harry went to move away too, to give the General some time to work through his feelings and pulled Daphne along with him. The three of them made it to the top of the staircase when a powerful hand clamped on Hermione's arm and turned her about.

Harry and Daphne both were shocked speechless by the sudden, almost frantic move by Jonathan, who had pulled Hermione close to him and was wrapping her up in his arms. She seemed to melt into his embrace, her small frame fitting in the niche formed by his protective arms as if she were made for the space.

"I love you Hermione."

Harry wasn't sure who gasped loudest, him, Daphne or Hermione. He felt his stomach drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his sneakers and shook his head to make sure he wasn't hearing things. All doubt fled when Jonathan cradled Hermione's head, one hand gently tilting her chin upward while the other came around the back of neck. His lips found hers, Hermione's body reacting instantly to the intimacy by reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull herself upward into the kiss.

She broke off after a long moment and looked up at him in earnest, "I love you too."

The sound that came out of Jonathan was somewhere between a sob and a sigh, anything further broken off by Hermione's lips coming up to meet his again.

Harry looked away, catching the knowing smile on Daphne's face as he took her hand in his. They descended together after a moment, once it became clear that their friends weren't going to stop kissing anytime soon.

* * *

 **POV: Luna**

The air was heavily laden with the scent of sting of disinfectant and the coppery tang of blood. The miasma was further augmented by the moans of the anguished; the wounded men and women, and spirits help her, a child that had been hurt in the fighting. The young girl cried piteously, clutching a worn hand woven doll tightly to her chest and burying her head into the chest of her daddy. The man's expression was enough to break her heart, the look of a parent unable to soothe their hurt baby.

'Somnus' Luna murmured, waving her wand and focusing her considerable prowess toward the bewitching sleep charm. She opened her eyes to find that the girl had fallen into a deep sleep, her father's eyes brimming with unspoken gratitude. Her doctor turned toward the witch and nodded his thanks, her thrashing had kept him from properly setting her leg.

Luna moved through the room, Soleil her constant shadow, lending what aid she could with the charms she knew. Minor cuts and bruises disappeared entirely under her ministrations while more egregious wounds were lessened enough for stimpacks to work their own brand of magic.

An hour later, an exhausted Luna fell onto a now vacant cot while Soleil spoke quietly with one of the doctors. She brushed her wispy blonde hair aside and wiped away the worst of the sweat beading upon her pale brow.

"You look tired."

Luna shivered at the sudden sibilant voice in her ear and nearly fainted dead away, she arched an eyebrow at the smirking Soleil, which is about as angry a reaction as she was capable.

"I'll be fine, as long as my friends don't keep trying to frighten me to death." Luna murmured darkly, though her smile belied the tone.

Soleil grinned at her as she sat on the opposite cot, leaning back on her arms and stretching her dark sinuous body languorously. She sat up and allowed the smile to fade as her normal taciturn nature came to the fore.

"You did a lot of good for these folks." She stated, with an almost defiant air about her.

"Would have been better had we been here at the start?" Luna asked, guessing at what Soleil was implying.

She got her answer when Soleil closed her eyes and shook her head angrily, some of her dark curls bouncing loose from her barrette.

"Maybe. Or maybe we'd be the ones to be lying here." Soleil mused.

"I'm sorry that Vincent died. He was very kind. Though I think he'd be glad that he died saving Susan's life. He loved her very much." Luna looked up as if seeing something far away.

Soleil seemed surprised Luna's observations regarding Vincent's character. But after a moment seemed to agree with the pale witch's assessment.

Soleil drew in a deep breath, "I still…"

The tall woman paused at Luna's upraised hand and thoughtful expression. Luna was intently peering over the warrior woman's shoulder prompting Soleil to turn in curiosity.

They both watched as Susan hesitantly stepped into the clinic, turning her head to thank the Minuteman who had escorted her there. One of the doctors approached and led her to a cot adjacent to the ones where Luna and Soleil rested.

Susan was more pale than usual, the red of her hair framing her face like a living flame around a full moon. She sat quietly and didn't seem to pay any attention to the two women staring at her.

Without a word, Luna rose from her cot and joined Susan, taking her seemingly lifeless hands in her own. Susan showed no reaction to the touch and continued to stare off into nothing.

Luna didn't quite know what to say, as she maintained enough pragmatism to realize that no one really took her seriously and Susan seemed to be taking Vincent's death VERY seriously. The two witches fell under a shadow as Soleil stood over them, blocking them from the morning sun streaming in from the curtained windows.

"Vincent and I had known each other a long time. We were both Diamond City security before that buffoon McDonough became mayor. We came to Salem together, tired of running guard detail on those Bunker Hill cheapskates. It was a good life, really good. Barney is a good enough fellow, Harry treats us with respect. We were made to feel at home, like we were part of something good. When we were asked to watch over you lot, Vincent about fell over himself to get picked as your guardian. He was infatuated from the start. He went on and on about you. Quite annoying really. Fingers got a bit jealous… been carrying a torch for the man ever since Bunker Hill. But for him, you were it. As much as it irritated me, I was really glad for him, he had never looked so happy. Every moment spent with you was one he treasured, Susan."

Soleil paused for breath, the laconic woman clearly not used to being so gregarious. She snatched a water bottle from a passing doctor, who had the good sense not to argue with the tall lithe woman, and gulped it down.

Luna examined Susan and saw that the veneer had cracked somewhat, a single drop of moisture wending its way down her tear stained cheeks.

Her thirst abated, Soleil continued, "He was my best friend. We understood each other like no one else ever had before. We had each other's backs for so long that people began to assume that we were an 'item'. He was a brother to me and I was a sister to him. When Luna and I got back and saw what the Gunner's had done, the guilt over not being here for him almost tore me apart."

To Luna's surprise, Soleil's voice broke, and the woman hurried to wipe away the tear that edged out from eyes that had nearly seen too much suffering to be affected by it anymore.

"I wasn't there for him when he needed me most. But me being guilty and feeling bad for failing my friend isn't going to do Vincent any good. He'd say, 'Let it go Sol. The sun always rises.'"

Soleil turned away from the two witches and continued to talk as if to Vincent, "I'm sorry Vinnie. I'm not going to let it go. I'm going to kill every one of those motherfuckers to even the score."

She turned back to Susan, who seemed to come alive at the thought of payback, "We can either wallow in guilt and what if's, or we can turn it to rage in our hearts and unleash it on those bastards. Hate can be a beautiful thing, Susan."

Soleil went on to quote Melville, "He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a cannon, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it."

The words captured Susan's spirit as surely as Ahab harpooned his Moby Dick and through the folly of his quest, tangled himself body and soul amidst the twisted lines to descend into the abyss with his most hated foe. A fire seemed to rage as Susan latched onto the idea of vengeance, its spirit coming to life within her and filling her heart and soul as completely as Vincent's death had emptied it. The malaise which had so enraptured the young woman was burned away as new courage lent her strength.

Susan stood abruptly and squared off with Soleil. They seemed to reach some unspoken agreement, each nodding to the other before Susan brushed by the waiting doctor and walked purposefully from the room.

By midmorning, Luna and Soleil had joined the others and watched as Barney Rook marched by as Captain Ironsides' crew carried their fallen aboard the frigate. Each had been draped with a black cloth, since Salem lacked a flag of their own.

"I never asked their names." Luna whispered, remarking on the men and women being carried past her, the same four that she and Soleil had come with from Salem.

"I wish I had asked their names." She lamented quietly, her voice finally achieving a measure of the sadness to match the turmoil within her.

"Stan. He was blonde, short, scruffy beard. Love to tell stupid jokes. He was terrible at it, but we laughed anyway. That was Laura. She wanted to have a baby more than anything. Phil. He was the tall skinny dark haired guy. Wrote poetry, pretty good actually, didn't rhyme though. Tyler, he was an asshole, but was always nice to the kids, saved any toys or such we'd found out there to give to them."

"Oh." Luna replied, "Thanks."

Soleil's early foray into the loquacious seemed to have passed, for she only grunted in reply, as if she had used up the measure of words she was allotted for the day.

One of the Minutemen, a bald man with sunglasses, paused at them and mumbled a platitude before walking on his supposed patrol.

Soleil jolted as if startled and peered intently at the retreating man's back, "I feel like I've seen that man before."

"I do too." Luna added, tilting her head in thought, "I'm sure of it. But I get the sense that he's trying to hide who he is… especially from himself."

Soleil seemed to come to a decision and started off after the rapidly disappearing Minuteman. Luna followed along behind, nearly slamming into her back when the dark woman suddenly halted.

"Where the hell did he go?"

* * *

The owl screeched in annoyance at the big brown bird that surged up into the air and nearly clobbered it. It paused in midair and let loose a stream of protesting hoots at the inconsiderate behemoth and the funny people walking around on its back. It continued on its way and its ire spent, the owl continued its own journey to the very settlement the ugly thing had left. It carried a message for one of the wizard's in its pouch and though it was not a living thing, it still prided itself on a job swiftly done.

The owl swooped down and with unerring accuracy, dropped the message right into the hands of the wizard, his strange double eyes catching the sunlight and dazzling the bird for a moment. As instructed, it perched nearby and waited in case the wizard had a reply, looking around at all the commotion and preening, hoping for some attention in the form of a neck scratch.

 **POV: Harry**

He unfurled the scroll and mentally kicked himself when he saw that it was from Nick Valentine. Harry frowned in chagrin at constantly putting off going to meet with Nick and subsequently forgetting about the poor man… or synth.

He scanned the message quickly, his eyes darting across the page as if possessed. The synth's handwriting was oddly sloppy, short choppy letters slashing the page as if the detective was writing the note while being violently shaken. Nick warned of Raider and Gunner movement near the settlement of Sunshine. Enough of each by themselves to overwhelm the modest garrison there, but thankfully they seem to be fighting each other instead of the settlement. Valentine went on to warn Harry that the situation could change at any time and that he really needs some back up there, or he's going to have to find a way to convince the folks there to abandon their home and head to Abernathy.

"What is it, Harry?" Daphne asked, concern on her face at the crestfallen expression he wore.

Harry handed the scroll to Daphne, who scanned over the document. Finishing, she sighed and handed it back.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, once again reinforcing the leadership position he found himself in and reminding him how much rested on his shoulders.

"I think we need to discuss this with Jonathan and Preston. Sunshine is a Minuteman settlement and they need to know what Nick has discovered. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together."

Satisfied with that answer, Daphne graced him with an encouraging smile.

Together, they joined the growing throng as Sheffield mounted the stairs on a makeshift stage, a battered podium leaning precariously along one side and the Minuteman flag draped proudly across the back of the stage.

Sheffield cleared his throat and began to speak, though his raspy throat did little to project his voice over the murmurs of hundreds of settlers. Harry sighed and mounted the stage next to him and with a questioning nod, to which Sheffield tentatively nodded, cast a quick charm to amplify the man's voice.

Sheffield's eyes bulged in surprise as the volume of his own voice seemed to unnerve him somewhat. He regained his composure and cleared his throat again, the gurgling noise transmitted across the settlement and making him wince in chagrin.

"People of Starlight, "He began again, "you know I'm not one for speeches or anything, so I'll keep this short. Earlier this morning a group of Gunners attempted to kidnap one of our friends from Salem. Instead of leaving when they failed, they brought more thugs out and attacked our peaceful settlement, killing four Salem Militia, seven of our brave Minutemen defenders and three civilians. In the not too recent past, the number of Gunners attacking us would have spelled the end of our proud town. But thanks to the noble sacrifice from our friends in Salem, and the stalwart defense by our very own Minutemen, we're still here!"

He shouted the last, raising his fist in defiance and receiving a roar from the crowd in response. Long had they spent huddled in fear from raiders such as the Gunners, that to not only have survived a major assault but to actually beat the raiders back gave the settlers their first taste of pride.

Sheffield let the cheer continue for a time before raising his hands for quiet, "Now we must rebuild, stronger than before! And we must memorialize our fallen so that their sacrifice is never forgotten! We will build this memorial right here in Starlight, so that every trader that comes will see, for all time, what our courageous friends had done."

He continued to speak for some time, clearly caught up in the fervor of his own words. Even Harry felt himself swept up in their flow. By the time the speech was over, enterprising settlers had set up stalls to sell food and someone had wheeled out the jukebox from Angie's Bar, lending the scene a festive air.

People seemed to be lining up around the spot that Mayor Sheffield had indicated the memorial would go. Curious, Harry peered through the throng and saw that the spot was festooned with a plethora of votive objects. Candles, food, liquor bottles, small scraps of cloth and more were carefully placed, each a silent testimony to the heartfelt appreciation from the people of Starlight.

The sun cast its reddish glare across the emptying central square and Harry felt that it was time to meet with his fellow leaders to discuss their future plans. Finishing off the spicy mirelurk meat on a stick, he strolled arm in arm with Daphne to the Minuteman barracks, where Jonathan and the others waited.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

By early evening, the gathered leaders of the Minutemen and Salem worked through the pleasantries of their meeting, sharing a friendly meal despite the gamut of emotions which plagued everyone within. Susan seethed in her seat, as if lit from within by ball lightning, her eyes flicking over everyone else and her hands tapping constantly. Luna and Soleil kept their own counsel, sitting somewhat apart from everyone else though listening intently to the others. Daphne, sat next to Harry, their hands clasped beneath the hardwood table as they smiled at the obviously beaming Hermione.

She just couldn't help it, even looking at and being reminded of Susan's heart ache did little to dull the fire blossoming in her own heart. She sat as close to Jonathan as their chairs allowed, their thighs touching and his arm draped comfortably and possessively over her shoulder. She nestled in his arms as if her body had been molded specifically to fit in his embrace.

Preston washed down the last of his corn chowder with a healthy gulp of wine and stood up, "I guess I'll start us off. With your permission General."

Jonathan nodded at Preston to continue, trying his damn hardest to give his second his full attention despite the way his heart thudded in his chest at Hermione's proximity.

"The Gunners have upped the ante. We now know that they seek to capture one of our wizarding friends for their own purposes. Additionally, we still get scattered reports of marauding bands of robots from the Mechanist. These reports are increasing in frequency, I think because of the diminished presence of the Rust Devils lately."

The others murmured or nodded their agreement, without the competition offered by the Rust Devils, the Mechanist's forces faced less opposition in their attacks across the Commonwealth.

"Nick Valentine, during his mission to track down Cait, had hit a dead end at Sunshine. That bad news is mitigated a little bit by the good timing of his arrival, as he discovered increasing Gunner and raider activity near there. They seem to be contesting the area south of the church, which is too close for comfort for our settlers there."

"How many people live at Sunshine?" Harry asked.

"There are a little over forty now, mostly farmers. We have a garrison of six Minutemen. Plus Nick of course. It is one of our newer settlements, so they don't have even the beginning of a wall like our other settlements though the people there have cobbled together a junk fence."

"They have turrets to augment their defense?" Jonathan asked, despite the fact that he very well knew the answer.

Preston nodded, knowing that the General brought it up so that he could explain the town's defenses in detail.

"Yes sir. About a dozen light machinegun turrets on elevated platforms scattered around the perimeter and an additional three shotgun turrets along the most likely avenues of advance by any determined attack. The Mr. Handy that was there has been repurposed for farming duty but can assist in the defense if needed."

"So if the Gunners or raiders attack, they'll get a bloody nose but if they attack in the numbers the Gunners brought here, they'll overrun the settlement in short order." Jonathan added, the precariousness of the people's position sobering him somewhat.

Preston began speaking again when Jonathan suddenly stood up, holding up his hand to hush the group as they began to question his sudden skittishness.

"I hear screaming… gunfire!" He hurled himself from the room, nearly bowling over Luna and Soleil as he vaulted the table and rushed outside.

Harry quickly followed, his wand ready as the distant screaming and sporadic gunfire seemed to come closer.

"Well hello there!" The ghostly apparition cheerily called out, seemingly inured to the panicked screaming that followed in his wake.

White faced Minutemen followed after the floating spirit, fingers fumbling around their triggers as they attempted to conquer their fear.

"Sir Nicholas!" Harry called out, "What are you doing here? And how is it that everyone can see you?"

"Good Evening, Mr. Potter! Just the lad I was looking for! I apologize for the disturbance, I'm not used to being seen by muggles."

"But HOW are they seeing you?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"I was observing the activity around the Dunwich quarry. Keeping an eye on the cult there and that nasty chindi. Seems like those loons actually managed a bit of magic to empower their dastardly spirit patrons. I somehow got caught up in their ritual and had to flee with haste when I realized that they could suddenly see me! The effect seems to be fading though, at least the ghostly flames have gone out, so I imagine I'll go back to being largely unnoticed in short order."

"Wait." Harry said, a chill running down his spine, "Did you just say, patrons? As in more than one?"

"Oh yes, right! There isn't one chindi, I saw at least five."

Harry nearly swooned at the news, black spots actually swam in his vision at the idea of a group of malevolent spirits and a crazed cult so close to Salem.

He recovered quickly and asked Nick to come inside the barracks and explain what he has seen to the group.

"So they put them in cages suspended over a fire pit. Burned the poor buggers alive. If I'd been alive, I'd have lost my lunch!"

The others paled at the horrible sacrifice perpetrated by the cult at Dunwich. Nicholas talked about their other activities and it was clear that the raiders were clearly mad and driven by a powerful and evil force.

"This must be answered at once!" Nicholas proclaimed, "Who knows when they'll find Salem and decide that we'd make a nice sacrifice?"

Harry fell into his chair and cradled his head in his hands, it was too much! Steeling himself and taking comfort from Daphne's hand on his back, he sat up straight and turned to Barney Rook.

"Salem has to make a pre-emptive strike before the loonies find us and they sacrifice any more innocents to the chindi."

Barney looked thoughtful, "Without stripping Salem bare, we have about 20 battle ready men and women. We can take them by surprise but if Nick's numbers are accurate…"

"I know how to count, sir." Nick bristled.

"…then we'll be outnumbered three to one." Barney continued without missing a beat, "Even with the Constitution providing fire support and some of you spell slingers coming along… it'll be a close thing. We may even lose."

"You aren't alone." The General declared, looking to Preston.

"Despite our losses, I think we can put together a few squads, about 24 troops." Preston replied, quickly adding up the available garrisons in his head.

"I can have 3 suits of T-45 ready in less than a day." Jonathan added. He turned to Harry, "If you can loan us the Constitution briefly, we can load up our men and the power armor and have them to Salem by this time tomorrow."

Harry grinned at the re-affirmation of the Minutemen's devotion to their friendship with Salem.

"That might give us the edge we need. Power armored Minutemen with heavy weapons will be force multiplier." Barney noted, nodding as he thought out loud, "We can have our teams form a perimeter and have the frigate pound them from the air. Once we button them up into the quarry, we can tighten the noose and fire down on them with our fire teams. Once the surface is cleared, a small group can go in the caverns and clear out any stragglers."

"The chindi are likely somewhere down there. I'll lead the attack inside." Harry announced, "Barney, you keep your men out, this is wizard's work and we don't need scared muggles shooting into the dark."

"What about the rest? I don't think any of these other issues are going to conveniently wait while we focus on Dunwich." Preston added, who like Harry, was starting to feel the strain.

"Hermione and I are taking Ada to continue our hunt for the Mechanist. If we can remove him from the board, it will give us some breathing room." Jonathan put in, with Hermione nodding in support.

Harry agreed, "And I would like Luna and Soleil to head to Sunshine. We need to either shore up their defense or help them evacuate."

He turned a questioning look at the two women, surprisingly, it was Soleil who answered for them, "Gunners and raiders running amok? Count me in."

"Well ladies and gentlemen… it appears that we have a plan." Harry announced.

* * *

 **POV: Susan**

It was with a determined stride that caught her up to Luna and Soleil as they headed out of town that next morning. Soleil's eyebrow arched slightly as she joined them, her eyes scanning Susan's level of preparation with obvious approval.

Susan had gone beyond the norm for the other magic wielders from Salem, girding herself in a gunmetal gray combat armor suit that Jonathan had grudgingly provided. His generosity was not in question, merely the wisdom in sending the obviously distraught young woman back into the thick of things so soon after losing her paramour. A well-worn holster on her hip held a heavily modified laser pistol, also courtesy of the General, being specifically customized to send a blast of multiple laser bursts at close range… a pistol version of a laser shotgun.

Susan tightened the cinches on the pack she wore, the slight woman almost bent over from the weight of the supplies she carried. She had refused all help with the pack, the fact that is was bulky and heavily weighted despite the extension charm she had placed on it a clear indicator of the number of materials and supplies she was carrying. Two additional turrets had been disassembled and placed within, with crates of medical supplies and ammunition finding their way within from the Minuteman quartermaster.

"Oh, hello Susan." Greeted Luna, as the flighty woman finally noticed that Susan had joined them.

Susan merely fixed a hard look at the blonde witch, tucking a stray strand of her red locks behind an ear, as if daring her to give any negative indication.

But Luna merely smiled and wafted over to give Susan a sisterly hug, careful not to knock over the off balance redhead.

Soleil helped Susan adjust the straps on her armor for a better fit, for all his experience, Jonathan knew little of how to fit armor onto female anatomy. In moments, Susan breathed easier as Soleil performed a minor miracle with the fit. Two Salem militiamen and four Minutemen joined their troop, each of them carrying a brace of supplies for Sunshine.

They were setting out shortly, travelling with the garrison from Abernathy as far as their settlement, and then moving on toward Sunshine. With luck, they would reach the beleaguered settlement before the sun set.

Susan wasn't conversational as they walked, Luna taking up the slack by making wistful observations on various subjects along the journey.

A group of bloodbugs were put down before either Luna or Susan could draw their wands, the precision fire from Soleil dropping the three giant mosquitos before the rest of the team even knew that they were there. Luna paused to examine their corpses, straining to lift one by its proboscis and shrieking when the nearly dead insect twitched madly in her grasp.

Susan didn't join the others in their laughter at the witches' expense, her mind fixed on their objection and her sincere hope that they would engage the Gunners menacing the settlement, a down payment on the justice she wished to visit on them.

They farewelled the Abernathy garrison as they departed the road and headed north to the farm, their pace increasing to reflect their eagerness to return home. The remaining joint force also increased their pace, their own desire to relieve their friends at Sunshine clearly lending speed to their limbs.

No other monstrosities reared their heads as they travelled, Soleil setting foot on the top of a dam just to the north of the co-op and holding up a fist to halt the company. Though the sun was well on its way to setting, visibility was clear as they joined her and saw the small detail awaiting their approach. The welcome party flew the Minuteman flag and only two uniformed men blocked their way, so the party was not unduly alarmed at the sight.

One of the Minutemen, a grizzled veteran by his appearance, approached the group and grinned widely when he recognized them. He waved cheerfully to his companion who hurried to catch up as they closed the distance between them.

"Ach! But it's good to see you! We were hoping we'd get some reinforcements, but to see you Salem folks here too really eases the burden on this old soldier." The elder Minuteman greeted.

"How's the settlement?" Soleil asked, the question the closest thing to a greeting she was likely to offer.

"We're holding up alright. The Gunners and the raiders seem more interested in fighting in each other than us. One side or the other will send a scouting team once in a while to keep us on our toes, but I think it's their way of saying to stay out of their business."

"I doubt it will stay that way, once one side or another pushes the other out, they'll hit Sunshine just for the promise of loot, especially if they're hurting for supplies after the fight." Soleil reasoned.

"Aye, I reckon you have the right of it, lass. Let's quit jawing on this dam and get you folks into the settlement. Old mama Steph had a stuffed radstag roasting over the fire afore we left to keep a watch and if we want to fill our bellies, we'd best be getting back before they forget their manners and leave us naught but bones to nibble!"

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione watched as the frigate took off from Red Rocket, two dozen Minutemen and three suits of power armor crowding the ship with Harry and the rest as they headed back to Salem to plan their assault on Dunwich. She shivered in the sudden cold, a spike of worry shooting along her spine with icy fingers. Warm arms enveloped her from behind and staved off the chill, her knees going weak as she felt the hard muscles of his torso pressing tightly against her back.

"I guess I need to get Ada and see if she's managed to triangulate the Mechanist's signal." Jonathan murmured as he looked over her head at the departing Constitution.

Hermione sighed, her disappointment an almost palpable thing in light of the dangerous turn they were about to take. For the briefest instant, she fantasized about staying here with him, to forget about murderous robots and killing radiation and live the life that she felt she had missed. That Susan definitely missed.

The wistful musing could not long last against her sense of right and duty. The witch had always been committed to putting what needed to be done ahead of her personal desires, and this time was no different. Still… there was a longing in her heart to stay here with Jonathan and spend time they both desperately needed exploring their new love.

Apparently he felt the same, as despite his pronouncement, he made no move to let her go or to leave. If anything, he seemed to tighten his grip on her, letting go immediately when Hermione shifted her shoulders to break free. She felt a pang at the hurt in his eyes and assuaged it by turning to face him fully and pulling his head down so their lips could meet. She felt him relax in her embrace, his lips and tongue playing with hers with almost reckless passion.

He groaned against her mouth as her hands trailed down the hard plane of his stomach, coming to rest on his hips. Acting on pure instinct, she pulled him more tightly against her, gasping in the unexpected surge of heat and wetness from her womanhood as she felt him hardening against her thighs.

"Greetings sir. Are you ready to depart?" The mechanical yet still feminine voice of Ada broke through the haze of their passion and drove them to stand apart in furious embarrassment. Hermione blushed fiercely at the bulge in his pants and felt her heart leap up into her throat at the unconscious pulsing she felt deep in her stomach.

Jonathan was as deep a shade of red as she had ever seen and she couldn't help but laugh at his discomfort, a mirth coupled with sympathy for the un-tempered lust that her own biology clearly desired.

"Um, hello Ada. Have you been able to triangulate the source of the Mechanist's signal?" Jonathan managed, after taking a moment to compose himself.

Hermione moved a way back so to get herself under control, the sudden urge to giggle maniacally only heightened when Jonathan turned a plaintive look her way.

Ada's head moved back and forth between them, as if trying to cogitate the strange behavior from her biological friends. Filing the behavior as a human anomaly, she turned her CPU's computational power toward responding to the General's question.

"I have. The signal is being broadcast from an old RobCo factory to the east. I estimate an 87% chance that this is where the Mechanist is directing his forces."

"Good work Ada. It's time for us to put a stop to his rampage. We'll head out first thing in the morning after I've had a chance to put the finishing touches on Tesla."

Ada nodded, an affectation she had often observed in humans, "It will be tactically advantageous to have the Sentry Bot accompany us. I surmise that his electric-based weaponry will be particularly useful against the Mechanist's forces."

Hermione had finally gotten herself under control and moved to stand next to Jonathan. Ada moved away, sensing that her presence was no longer required and that she would be well served by recharging until they departed.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, watching the slim assaultron move away.

"Once more unto the breach." She murmured.

"Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage; then lend the eye a terrible aspect." He replied.

"You know your Shakespeare." She smiled, constantly astounded by this man.

"Henry V was a favorite of mine, I so loved the romance of it all. Most of the other mocked me, preferring the writings of Arleigh Burke or Curtis LeMay. But I've always loved the written word, there's one in particular that has been in my thoughts ever since I met you."

"Oh? Which is that?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.

He smiled wickedly, "Oh you'll have to wait. It's a bit of a morning after type of literature."

"Oh you!" She chided, slapping his arm in mock-protest.

His mirth died as swiftly as it was born, "We have a hard task ahead of us."

Her heart tempered by the sobering thought, she girded her heart with the courage she drew from him, "No matter what, we'll be together."

"No matter what." He affirmed, leaning down to kiss her once more before leading her into the workshop to being their preparations.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

It was a somber procession that filed off the ship after she had moored at Salem's docks. Having been forewarned, the bulk of the town had gathered, each holding aloft a lit candle as the bodies of their protectors were borne past them.

Harry watched the line in stoic silence, Daphne leaving his side to direct the funereal procession to the church at the heart of the town. He shook himself from his stupor long enough to ask George to see to quartering the Minutemen who had accompanied them, frowning at the diminished spirit of the ever-optimistic wizard.

Standing along on the decks, he looked out over the gathered townspeople; the nearly two hundred men, women and children in his charge and under his protection. Salem had grown into a happy and prosperous place, the more for others to envy and covet. He knew that he must nurture a darkness in his heart, so that he could be the force that kept these people safe.

That darkness would soon be released on unsuspecting people to the west, Harry gazing out toward the dark line of that not-so-distant horizon. Unsuspecting, but not undeserving, he reminded himself. Barney had word from scouts that small settlements that once lay within half a day of the old quarry were empty of life. Harry could piece together what had become of them, giving Nicholas' grim tidings of human sacrifice carried out for the chindi.

What Harry couldn't figure out, was the why. No magic he knew of could return the dead to life nor give physical aspect to the fleshless apparitions that haunted the living world.

Nicholas hadn't remained visible to the muggles, so whatever curse or hex they were empowering with the dying agony of the captured settlers was temporary at best. Harry once again rued how little information they had and missed the expansive library at Hogwarts where this and many more answers might have been gleaned.

He sighed heavily and walked with wooden legs off the ship at last, taking his place at the rear of the procession. Tomorrow they would bury their friends. Then they would prepare for war.

* * *

The next day…

Harry picked listlessly at his lunch, the morning's ceremony leaving him completely bereft of appetite. His Daphne could only sit next to him in silent support, knowing that there were no words of comfort she could offer that would take the burden of what had to come next.

Harry didn't fear any conflict with his morality, killing the cultists and banishing the chindi was the right thing to do in his mind. No, the anxiety stemmed from the fact that this wasn't a task he cold undertake alone… that others would fight and most probably die in the coming battle. And no matter how necessary a thing might be, Harry had never been able to be cavalier with the lives of those entrusted to him.

That to a man, the Salem Militia and Minutemen were volunteers did little to assuage his guilt. He looked into their smiling, enthusiastic faces and saw their grave pallor as veils were drawn over their still bodies. Smiles gone forevermore under his watch and in his care.

"Daphne, could you ask Barney and Roger to join me in the diner? It's time to discuss the coming battle."

* * *

 **POV: Somewhere deep underground**

His beard was flecked with blood as the cough wracked his body, his skin taking on a ghastly hue beneath the fluorescent lighting. The pod that sustained him hummed in counterpoint to his pain, his rasping breaths coming harder with each passing moment.

An attractive blonde woman rushed into the room, wielding a strange white gauntlet that hummed as she held it over the stricken man.

A green beam played out over his throat and chest, easing his pain enough for him to fall back with an exhausted sigh.

"Thank you, my dear. That is much better." The man forced past his dry throat. He graced her with a small smile and gently took hold of one of her hands.

She looked down at him helplessly, her medical knowledge stymied by the malignancy of the tumors devastating his body.

"Would you call your husband here? There is some business that needs to be cleared up, sooner rather than later."

"You need to rest." She insisted.

"I'll have all the rest I need soon enough. Please, Sharon. This is important."

She nodded in quiet acquiescence and moved away to the communications panel. He couldn't quite make out her words, she spoke softly no doubt for his benefit. He wished he had more time to get to know the relative newcomers, he wished he had more time for a great many things, but the cancer was extremely aggressive beyond even the science of his new friends.

A dark haired man strode in, his every step measured with purpose as befit a man whose calling was martial in nature. He spared a smile for Sharon before a look of worry creased his brow as he knelt at the pod's side.

"You asked for me, Father?"

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Commander. I fear that time grows short."

"I am at your service, sir."

"I am… grateful." He paused to draw a few trembling breaths, "I feel the end coming and I must ask more of you now than I ever have before. There are those who would oppose my decision, especially Dr. Ayo. But it has to be you."

His sudden proclamation thoroughly befuddled the man, his face twisting in undisguised confusion as he attempted to make sense of the nominal head of the Institute.

"What would you have of me, Father?"

"I've spoken to the Division Heads: Dr. Li, Dr. Holdren and Dr. Filmore… all agree. You will be the new Director of the Institute. I need you to continue our work. And please… find my mother."

The man recoiled as if slapped, and for a brief moment wondered if he had heard truly.

"Sir? Are you certain? I'm no scientist. I'm a soldier, always have been. Sharon would be a better…"

Father cut him off, his face taking on an aspect of madness as if he spent his very life energy to force the words, "It must be you! Sharon will be the Division Head of Robotics, since the position has been vacant for some time. I know you disapprove of the course we have taken and that the last thing you want is to be responsible for the future of the Institute. But we have to change if we are to be the future of the Commonwealth. We've been sequestered in here for so long, that we have lost focus on our goal. Only you have the strength of character to be the architect of change the Institute needs."

Father closed his eyes for a long moment, and grew so still that the Commander feared the outburst had utterly spent what little life remained. But he opened his eyes and began again, whispering so softly that he had to lean in to hear.

"I had set into motion events that… I had hoped would lead my mother here. But something has gone wrong, we've lost sight of her. Please find her… tell her… Shaun…"

The Commander stared down at the greying visage of Father, as if willing him to finish speaking. He held the old man's hand, squeezing it as if to prompt him to awaken.

"He's gone, baby." Sharon said softly, placing her hand on his.

He looked down for a long moment at the man who had rescued him, his wife and their adopted daughter from almost certain death nearly six years before. He stood up and clasped hands with their savior one last time.

"Are you going to do it?" Sharon asked.

He nodded solemnly and hugged his wife, "Justin isn't going to like this."

"Justin doesn't like much of anything. He hasn't been the same since Dr. Zimmer failed to return from the Capital Wasteland."

"He seems to be relishing his new position with a little too much fervor. I think he had long assumed that his meteoric rise to authority was heralding his assumption of the Directorate once…" He looked back down on the man, emotion hitching his voice somewhat.

He sighed, "Well, one thing is clear, I'd better assert control quickly; we have a lot of work to do."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello folks, I apologize for how long it has been since I've updated last. Life has been very busy as of late and my time extremely limited with regard to leisure activities. In any case, my next chapter or two is outlined and plotted, so I hope that the next couple of updates won't take as long. Thank you for sticking around and for following/favoriting the story. Each one of you inspires me to continue writing. As always, please review, I always welcome your thoughts.


	10. Chapter 9: Pistol Packin Mama

Chapter 9: Pistol Packin' Mama – Bing Crosby and The Andrew Sisters

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fallout or Harry Potter, blah blah blah

Also, I want to state unequivocally that a cross over between two disparate genres would naturally incur some AU-like considerations. E.g. not everything you know about the Fallout 4 game will be represented in this story and likewise for details of the Potter universe.

Lastly, I want to clear up some possible confusion with my 'POV: character name' headers. Despite what POV stands for, the header is not actually specifying that the section will be told from their point of view, though it sometimes is. It is more to give you a frame of reference as to who we are focusing on in that particular frame. Consider it almost like a story board for a movie, with the title giving the name of the central character within that scene.

* * *

 **POV: Luna and Soleil, Settlement of Sunshine**

The settlement was bustling with industry as the hardworking settlers continued working their land regardless of the pall of war that hung over them. The settlers that were drawn to Sunshine preferred the quiet life, working the land and tending to their families away from the care of the rest of the Commonwealth. They had emigrated here from across the 'Wealth, lured by the promise of safety provided by the resurgent Minutemen, whose diligence was appreciated by the settlers and left them to their own lives without interference.

Built high upon an old-world silo, an observation tower had been put up for the Minuteman garrison to keep an eye on the raiders at the Federal Reserve and a number of Gunner camps to the south.

Climbing up the winding metal staircase had proven no hardship to either Soleil or to Nick Valentine, but had proven quite a challenge to the less physically adept Luna and Susan. Both girls were flushed and breathless by the time they joined their companions at the top, the mercenary and detective sharing a brief amused look at the duo's expense.

There was a more than a modicum of respect there as well, for the girl's hadn't needed to climb the stairs. They could have 'magicked' themselves to the top and left Nick and Soleil in the dust, but had instead opted to do things the muggle way and had tackled the wobbly staircase without complaint.

Once they reached the summit, their breath was taken away by the view, the tall tower affording them a panorama far in excess of any other structure outside of Boston itself.

Though details were difficult to discern at this distance, some activity was clearly taking place at the Federal Reserve, with the muffled echoes of gunfire and explosions reaching them now that they were above the panoply of sound generated by the settlement.

Luna, despite her oft-maligned 'looney' ways, quickly surmised the difficulty and used her wand to draw a circle in the air in front of them. With a sure and deft wave, she compressed the air like a lense, magnifying the image and bringing the distant battle into sharp focus. Nick and Soleil both breathed appreciatively at the witch and bent their attention to studying the battle. Susan's focus was razor sharp as she too looked intently at the image, following along with question as Soleil or Nick asked Luna to move the lense for focus in on a specific spot.

It didn't take long for the tactically minded and experienced mercenary to draw a conclusion, "The raiders are done for. The Gunners will rout them in an hour or less."

Nick grunted his agreement, "Looks that way, doll. Question is, what will the Gunners do once they finish?"

"A little more pressing, is what are the raiders streaming out of that church going to do?" Soleil pointed out, her muzzle drifting in the air in the direction of the church just south of the settlement.

Luna obliged their curiosity and angled the lense to focus on the church. She augmented the vision with sound, filling the space with the angry cries of the raiders in various stages of dishevelment. The clear leader, a woman with red paint over her eyes, knocked and bullied her way through the crowd of filthy raiders, her power armor growling in tandem with her curses.

'Get up you lazy fucks! We gotta get moving before those Gunners realize we snuck out the back. Come on you shits!'

'Where the fuck are we going to go?' One of the raiders whined, looking pale beneath the dirt and blood smeared on his face while he leaned against the church.

Clearly not in the mood to deal with whining, the red raider crudely grasped the man's head with her power armored fist and drove it into the brick wall of the church, the contest between wall and head being resolved in favor of the wall.

She shook the blood spattered brains of her fist in disgust and turned her blazing gaze to the rest of her crew, 'North! We storm that farm up there and hole up while we figure out our next move! Any other stupid fucking pansy-ass questions?'

Soleil and Nick shared concerned looks and turned to Luna and... Wait, where did Susan go?

* * *

 **POV: Susan**

She took several measured breaths as she clutched the bag of rad-away in her suddenly sweaty hands. As soon as they had said that the Gunners would win, she had hastily and quietly descended the stairs far enough to be out of sight. She need not have bothered, she realized, as the trio's attention was firmly fixed on the situation playing out at the Federal Reserve.

She offered up a quick prayer, hoping that the few moments she spent looking at her target were enough, and that the Rad-away would keep her alive long enough for her plan to work.

Knowing that her muscles would likely not work the way she'd want once she arrived, she inserted the needle into her arm with a hiss, holding the bag aloft while she fought the wave of nausea that threatened to send her plummeting down the silo.

'Come on… Vincent's watching, you have to be strong.' She murmured, her eyes closed tightly against the vertigo.

It passed and before she could lose her nerve, she apparated to the Federal Reserve.

"Horff!" If Susan had thought getting sick by cleansing the soil sample was bad, it was nothing compared to how she felt now.

She knew from Harry's earlier attempt to apparate, that it flooded the traveler with a massive dose of radiation, far in excess of what was necessary to kill a human. That he and Piper had survived was nothing short of a minor miracle, that they had had Rad-away handy. She took the lesson to heart and was grateful she had taken that precaution, even as her stomach emptied itself for the fourth time in as many minutes.

She was painfully aware of how vulnerable she was, she had arrived several feet in the air and had landed with a cry, her horribly bruised body heaving in protest as it fought to preserve her life. The Rad-away bag was nearly empty and with it came the horrible urge to urinate.

Focus! She had to focus! There was no telling if any of the Gunners or the few remaining raiders had noticed her arrival on the ledge above the Federal Reserve.

She spat out bile and gritted her teeth, just barely managing the proper form to conceal herself with magic. The hiss of a stimpack began to relieve some of her pain and a gulp of purified water did wonders to clear her aching head. She guzzled more water down, heedless of the pure liquid cascading down her front and soaking her armor and clothing.

She lay back, panting, waiting for the rad-away to finish its work and for the pain and vertigo to lessen enough for her to get moving.

She peered up moments later, breathing a sigh of relief as it appeared that her presence went unnoticed. She watched with apathy as Gunners lined up a few of the surviving raiders and shot each one in the head before moving into the main concrete bunker.

A small group were left aboveground and began to patrol the area, giving Susan the 'in' she needed. Ensuring that she was still concealed atop the ridge, she peered over the edge and watched as the low-level Gunners walked the grounds, their movements deliberate and their eyes alert for hidden dangers.

She waited until the three Gunners approached just below her before acting, casting a silencing charm on all three. They stopped immediately, their features contorting weirdly as they struggled to make sense of their sudden deafness. She ended the comical scene by hurling all three into the air with a simple wave and snarled incantation. She stood up and brushed errant dirt from her clothes before casually climbing down toward where the patrol had just stood.

She looked up and calculated quietly in her head, moving aside a few steps to avoid the flailing man as he plummeted back to earth, his body breaking in silence. The other two fell shortly after, one smashing into the small concrete bunker and smearing his blood all down the side as his body slid off.

Tucking an errant strand of red hair behind an ear, Susan pulled one of the more intact corpses over and began to undress the slight man, judging that this one was near enough to her size to suit her. Moving as quickly as she could, she stripped off her armor and quickly shed her own clothes, tucking them in a neat bundle inside the small concrete bunker. Clad only in her panties and a tight white shirt, she shivered in the late autumn chill.

She pulled on the dead man's fatigues, crinkling her nose at the smell of the less than hygienic former Gunner, the man's musk making her already weakened stomach lurch. She cleansed the clothing of the stink with a simple charm, modifying the spell so that the slough would accumulate at her feet instead of in her body (a lesson she learned the hard way from the soil samples.)

Stepping gingerly over the yellowish ooze, she moved upwind of it and took a (relatively) clear breath. Shaking her head ruefully at herself for wasting time, she retrieved her armor and buckled it back into place, carefully transmogrifying the gunmetal grey into an olive drab seemingly favored by the Gunners. With luck, the disguise should be sufficient to allow her to steal close to those within the compound.

She had no real plan, but nevertheless felt a surge of pride in herself for improvising so well so far. She felt that Vincent would be proud of her, and that alone was worth the discomfort.

Checking over herself one last time, Susan finally felt as though she was ready. She walked softly toward the entry way of the main bunker, a single Gunner sitting at a desk with her feet propped on the desk. She glanced up at Susan and went back to cleaning her fingernails with a knife.

"Hey, you see those idiots that were supposed to be on patrol?" The woman asked, looking intently at a particular piece of stubborn debris.

"Actually I did." Susan murmured, sliding up beside her and thrusting her wand at the side of the woman's head.

"Hey, what?" Was all the Gunner managed before a dull 'whumpf' stole her voice as a red bolt of energy entered her ear canal and roasted her brain. She slumped down in her seat, her eyes showing nothing but the whites and a line of drool starting to dribble from her slack lips.

Susan turned the woman's face toward her and noted that this Gunner, like most of the others had a tattoo on their cheek, a detail she had missed earlier. She cursed herself for missing what could have been a telling flaw, if this sentry had been more observant, she could have noticed the discrepancy and shouted an alarm. Susan took a moment to apply a quick glamour onto her cheek, looking at the distorted reflection of a broken computer monitor to check her work. It would do.

Susan moved deeper into the underground complex, the signs of the earlier battle still fresh with the coppery tang of blood and the smell of cordite still hanging heavily in the air. She stepped over raider corpses that had not yet been policed up and approached group after group of Gunners leaving smoking ruins of flesh in her wake.

She was methodical, checking every nook and cranny, every side passage and chamber. She had killed perhaps a dozen of the hated mercenaries before she finally heard the hint of an alarm. A distantly echoing cry of dismay was quickly followed by shouting voices and stampeding feet.

Pulling her laser pistol out, she ran and began to shout, calling out to her 'comrades' that she had found more raiders.

"They're over here! More Raiders coming in! Need backup!"

Already in a state of heightened confusion, the five Gunners that joined her readily accepted that she was one of them and began to query her about the enemy.

"How many are there? Where are they?" A grizzled man barked, his eyes scanning the area for enemies.

"One." Susan answered sedately, stepping back to put the Gunners in front of her, "And she's right here."

"What?" The Gunner asked, confusion clear in his voice as he turned to face Susan.

His eyes opened wide in horror as they reflected the fiendfyre streaming from Susan's wand. He opened his mouth to shout, to scream, to do or say something, but the magical flames twisted in the air and surged into his open mouth, muffled his screams to burst out from his body in a grizzly display.

The rest of the squad screamed and quite unlike their reputation for ruthless efficiency, made to flee. Sinuous serpents of flame snaked around their limbs and pulled them screaming back toward Susan, the flesh of their legs crackling black under the intense heat. The screams reached a higher pitch as the Gunners were consumed by the flames racing up their bodies, the sound eventually falling until only the crackle of flame cooking the charred remains could be heard.

Waving away the stink of burning hair and flesh, Susan took a steadying breath and sought her center of calm, an essential skill when dismissing fiendfyre. The sorcerous flames heeded her command and dwindled away until only natural embers remained, the bones of the Gunners still glowing as Susan stepped around the white ashes.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry leaned over the large table they had set up in the main room of the church, the building quickly becoming known as the de facto administrative center of the town.

Barney Rook stood at the table with his second, a quiet but determined looking young blonde woman named, ironically, Reba.

They were joined by the representative of the Minutemen contingent, a familiar face that Harry was pleased to see again. Roger grinned at Harry as he joined the group, his second an older black man with a permanent scowl etched into his hard edged features.

"This is Cranston." Roger said by way of introduction.

The aforementioned Minuteman merely nodded to the others before studying the crude map Harry had drawn on the table.

Harry nodded in return, grateful that his friends in the Minutemen were taking this seriously by sending a good portion of their available strength. He stood straight and grinned, relishing the opportunity to show off a little in front of Roger by tapping the tabletop with his wand.

The Minutemen gasped, even the taciturn Cranston's face evincing a look of wonder.

The table surface morphed and grew, a bubble appearing in the wood and expanding up and out, the Minutemen exchanging nervous glances and stepping back in caution.

The wood shimmered and the bubble burst with an audible pop, revealing, in perfect miniature, a detailed model of the Dunwich Bore.

"Now that IS a good trick!" Roger exclaimed, coming back to the table to peer at the display intently.

Harry smiled and motioned for Cranston to rejoin them, stifling a laugh as the man hesitated.

"Now, let's get down to brass tacks." Harry announced, "I'm expanding the operation a bit. We're hitting Dunwich as planned, but we're also going to use this opportunity to clear the ground around Salem and get rid of those ghouls at the manor to our south."

"Croup Manor." Barney provided, eyeing the Minutemen for any hint of dissent with Mr. Potter's plans.

Roger winked at Barney and turned to Harry, "We're here to support you in whatever way we can."

"Thanks Roger. Having you here makes it possible for me to see this through the way I want."

If Barney felt slighted at the words, he didn't show it, he too was grateful for the Minutemen for their help, so long as they remembered who was calling the shots around here.

"The Constitution will take position above and to the west of the quarry at sunset." Harry pointed his wand and a small simulacrum of the frigate appeared above the display. "They'll fire their cannons and cause as much havoc and confusion as possible. Me, Daphne, George and Lilith will be aboard and will take off on brooms once the cannons have had a chance to do their work."

"What is our role?" Roger asked.

Harry turned to Barney, who fixed the two Minutemen with superior looks.

"I'll be leading the forces on the ground. We'll head out this afternoon in groups and encircle the quarry. I'll lead your power armor boys and a few of my crack troops into the quarry to bust down their door while Mr. Potter provides air cover."

"Your men may get caught in some heavy fire down there." Roger remarked.

"Mr. Weasely and Mr. William whipped up a little something after seeing your General tool around in his power armor. It's not quite the same thing, but it'll do to keep the cultists from making our boys Swiss cheese."

Roger nodded, curious to see what the Salem folks had come up with, "Well, just tell your folks to try and keep up." He added with a good natured smile.

"Keep up? You'll be lucky if your walking tin cans have anything left to shoot at once my boys get through." Barney laughed.

"Once the heavy hitters reach the bottom, I want two squads of troops moving in to help clear the quarry. Once we've secured the surface, I'll take a team inside to deal with any cultists inside and those chindi." Harry continued, smirking a little at the fun Barney was having with the Minutemen. A little healthy competition between allies never hurt.

"While they are inside, we'll divide up the groups to keep watch on the outside so that nothing gets in and surprises Mr. Potter's team." Barney added.

Harry nodded, "I want Roger to be in charge of rearguard. Barney is going to take a group on the Constitution and hit Croup Manor and any other targets of opportunity that present themselves."

Barney whooped, "Me and Reba are going to give it to 'em!"

Reba looked over at him with an arched eyebrow.

"I, uh, I meant you. Really!" Barney stuttered, slowly placing his beloved rifle, also named Reba, behind his back.

"Sure…" Reba stated flatly, reaching up to run a hand through her short platinum hair. Roger took a moment to admire the woman, though not beautiful in the traditional sense, she had strikingly blue eyes and filled out her leather armor very nicely. Though to be quite truthful, he was very disappointed to learn that Soleil wasn't around.

"Sounds like we have a plan gentlemen." Harry announced, "I'll leave you four to work out the details, I'm going to get my team together. Be ready to leave as soon as you can, I want them surrounded before the Constitution gets into place."

Barney grinned and snapped a salute, "Sir, yes sir!"

Reba rolled her eyes dramatically then grinned and nodded at Harry, while Roger and Cranston gave him a casual wave.

* * *

"What is it? What's happening?" A middle-aged, curvy blonde hurried to the base of the tower, harrying Nick, Soleil and Luna just as they were coming down.

"Ah, Mayor… well I have good news and bad news." Nick replied, lighting a cigarette, the cherry glow betraying the worry etched on his synthetic face.

"Can it, Nick. Give it to me straight." Mayor Ester Tourette snapped, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"The Gunners have won out over the raiders. The Federal Stockpile is now in their greedy little hands."

"Is that the bad news or the good news?" The mayor demanded.

"Um… the good news?" Soleil provided sheepishly.

Nick and Luna both eyed Soleil askance, the latter clearly unused to that tone coming from the stoic amazon.

The mayor dropped the tough girl act and looked almost pleadingly at the trio, "Tell me about the bad."

"A good portion of the raiders survived and escaped through Lonely Chapel. They're practically on our doorstep and intend to occupy this settlement to recover from their set back." Nick answered sympathetically, patting the Mayor's shoulder consolingly.

Mayor Tourette smiled gratefully at Nick's gesture and drew herself up, "Alright then, time for these 'Minutemen' to earn their keep. I'll see if I can wrangle up some of our own militia to join in the defense. How many are we facing?"

"About twenty, the leader is in power armor."

Ester blanched at that, but kept the tremor out of her voice, "Ms. Lovegood, Soleil, you and your troops aren't under my authority, but I would appreciate your help."

"You have it Mayor." Soleil replied without hesitation.

"Thank you. Now let's stop jawing and get our asses in gear!" She hiked up her sun dress and ran, very unladylike toward the large warehouse at the center of the settlement, where the main generators and siren were located.

Soleil nodded curtly to Nick and Luna and moved off at a jog to muster the pair of Salem militia that had accompanied them. Luna and Nick, with a breathless sigh from the disheveled witch, started back up the watchtower.

They had ascended only a few steps before the wavering tone of the siren sent shivers down Luna's back, the eerie noise raising her sense of alarm all on its own. Luna considered that it was probably an intentional side effect of the muggle device and marveled at how inventive the muggles were. She found her pace increasing, soon even overtaking the android as she huffed to the top of the watchtower.

Completely out of breath and feeling a little faint, Luna stayed away from the edge of the open air platform at the top of the tower. She heard Nick mount the platform beside her and felt his hand on her shoulder.

"You alright doll?"

Lacking the breath to reply, she nodded vigorously, regretting it immediately as she nearly swooned from the motion. Nick caught her easily and eased her into a folding metal chair.

"You just sit for a minute and catch your breath, I'll take a look and see what's what."

She didn't reply this time, just concentrated on keeping the tower from spinning. She recovered some of her wits in time to hear Nick begin to mutter.

"The Minutemen are all on the southern wall. The raiders are getting close too. Looks like Ester got about six or seven of her people together. There's Soleil, she's got your two Salem boys trailing her."

The raiders let loose a warbling battle cry as they charged across the grassy field separating them from what they considered an easy mark. If they were taken aback at the presence of a ten foot high concrete wall, they gave no indication of it, merely slowing to light Molotov cocktails and toss them on top of the walls.

The dull 'wooshes' of expanding flame was accompanied by pained shouts as Minutemen scrambled to avoid getting splashed. Sporadic gunfire rained down into the raiders as the light machine gun turrets activated and began to add their fire to the increasing volume of violence.

A missile streaked in and took out a turret, the unfortunate Minuteman standing near it blasted right off of the wall trailing flames. Ester was there in a flash, stabbing the man with a stimpack while simultaneously patting out the flames. She called over her own people over who grabbed the moaning man and carried him to their infirmary.

Luna gnawed her lip in worry as she watched from the tower. Despite the wall and the turrets, the raiders were giving as good as they got, several defenders having already fallen. The power-armored raider loaded another missile and aimed it at the gate, preparing to open the way for her boys to rush inside.

Pointing her wand and concentrating, Luna managed to nudge the missile upward as it streaked out of its launcher. The raider leader cried out in surprise as the projectile fired straight up and curved straight back down into her own men.

Satisfied at the carnage, Luna turned her attention to another section of wall, where four raiders were making ready to scale with jury-rigged grappling lines.

The surprise of those raiders wall lasted precisely two seconds, when the wall rumbled and the entire section they stood beneath suddenly fell outward and slammed down onto them. The wall shook and stood up again, bloody smears along its white surface the only evidence that men once stood there.

"Hey! That' a girl!" Nick shouted, clapping Luna on the back.

Soleil gritted her teeth at the severe burn on her arm as she raised her rifle and put down three raiders in as many seconds, aiming and firing without pause. She couldn't stifle the scream as a blazing line of pain erupted along her neck, hot blood splashing the Salem militiamen next to her.

She felt strong hands clamp onto her neck as she was lowered, the man crying out for a medic.

Luna felt the sudden anguish like a stab in her neck, making her lurch uncontrollably. Nick caught a hold of her before she could plummet off the side, the synth muttering that they really ought to put a rail or something up there.

The pain easing slightly, Luna risked a look at where her instincts directed, and paled even further when she saw Soleil being pulled away from the wall by the Salem militia. A twinge of anger spiked through her, an unwelcome and nearly foreign sensation to the normally serene witch.

She scanned the battlefield and though the defenders had paid a bloody price, the raiders were nearly spent, only a small group still pressing the attack. In a move fraught with desperation, one of the raiders pulled the pin on a grenade and tossed it underhand at the gate, perhaps hoping that once inside, the half dozen or so of them left could turn the tide.

Luna repeated her trick of catching thrown grenades (from the battle at Salem) and gave it back to them, the explosion in their midst doing more to add a measure of disorder than actual harm. The defenders pressed their momentary advantage, laser blasts knifing into the disoriented raiders and cutting them down.

As the dust settled, only the power-armored leader still stood, stomping in anger even as potshots plinked off her heavy plates. She turned at just the right angle at just the right time for a minuteman sniper to put a round right into her fusion core, the breached container hissing green gas at an alarming rate.

With a cry of panic, the raider forced open the unwieldy armor and stumbled into a run just before the device exploded like a miniature nuclear blast. A few unfortunate souls got knocked off of the walls, but the raider took the worst of it, being blown off her feet to slam face first into the unyielding gate.

She staggered back dazed, the blood from her face blinding her and making the scene almost comical with the way she lurched about.

"Hold your fire!" Ester screamed, forestalling the defenders from turning the raider into paste. She marched over to the gate and shot a glare at the militiaman who was too slow in opening it for her liking.

The men shrugged at each other and hurried over to open the gate for their volatile mayor, then accompanied her outside the settlement in case of trouble.

Ester stomped right up to the raider leader and punched her directly in the face, sending the woman sprawling with a groan onto the blood soaked ground.

"You stupid bitch! Fucking whore! Where is Lily! You had one job! Keep her safe, and you become a piece of shit raider! Dad would fucking kill you if he were still alive, you stupid cunt!"

Ester's rage was only further fueled by her victim's pleading groans, her curses punctuated by swift kicks she delivered into the raider's side. She reached down and picked up the raider, who flopped listlessly in the strong woman's grasp.

She shook her violently, "Damn you Steph! Where is Lily?! Where's our little sister?!"

'Steph', the raider boss formally known as 'Red Tourette', could only drool blood in response.

Ester let the raider fall in a heap at her feet and stepped back, wrath and worry warring for expression on her face.

Her ire finally spent, she spat down on the raider and tersely ordered her men to lock her up. She marched back inside, her face flushed with effort and ignored the questioning glances directed at her by the defenders.

In no mood to climb the stairs yet again, Luna stepped off the platform and used her magic to gently float down to the ground. She alighted with a soft step and glided over to Ester, her serene presence seemingly calming the irate mayor.

"Who is that?" Luna asked calmly, placing a delicate hand on the woman's back and stroking her gently.

There must have been a measure of magic in the touch, for the blonde visibly relaxed, though the departure of rage left only grief to fuel her. Ester's shoulders fell and she grasped Luna desperately, the slight woman teetering under the sudden weight.

"She's my little sister." She sobbed, "One of three. She took Lily with her to find work while I stayed on with our dad. Last I heard, she said she had found a good spot to find salvage to sell and actually sent caps home once in a while. When dad died, I came out here to start again, hoping the three of us could meet up and start a new life together. I should have known something was up, Steph was always a mouthy cunt of a girl with the common sense of a carrot."

Luna was unprepared for her life story, her unrelenting sobs, or the burden of holding the larger woman, but she held on stoically, listening to Ester go on about how she waited and searched and turned down offers to settle and marry, all because she couldn't relax and settle until she found Steph and Lily.

She straightened up just as a pair of her volunteer militia dragged the barely sensate Stephanie past them. Steph lifted her head for a moment and started to gurgle something, to which Ester angrily demanded that she 'shut the fuck up!'

As if that shout stole all the remaining strength from her, she collapsed, dragging Luna down onto the ground with her.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

The orange light of the setting sun painted his skin in ruddy tones as the wind tousled his hair.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry couldn't quite suppress the thrill he felt whenever he flew, even if it was on the deck of flying gunship. He held onto Daphne and stood on the foredeck enjoying her presence.

Looking at her, he was thrilled to see the same wonder reflected in her eyes as the ground flew by beneath them in a blur. He was sure that he had found a love of a lifetime in Daphne, and once Salem was safe, intended on making their relationship more permanent.

Seeing that they were approaching their destination, Harry sighed and took Daphne's hand as they walked back toward the others. Looking up at the crow's nest, he felt a surge of pride at the flag that now snapped proudly in the wind.

One of the former vault residents, a seamstress by trade, had sewn it for them. She had painstakingly attended to every detail, even sewing gold piping around the edges. The flag was black, unfaded by the passage of time. A mirror of the Hogwart's coat of arms was centered on the flag, though the central 'H' for Hogwarts had been replaced by an 'S' for Salem.

The same insignia adorned his 'battle robes' special garments also lovingly crafted by Ms. Petrova. Though it definitely set the wizards and witches apart from the non-magical people of Salem, the muggles had been unanimous in their pride in their resident magicals and felt that they should stand out proudly.

He looked as though he was ready for a Quidditch match, the dark red robes draped over pale cream colored trousers, a black shirt and supple but strong leather armor on his chest and arms. The ensemble was completed with a set of high leather boots, similarly armored. Lilith had etched runes on the armor to increase their protective qualities, proudly proclaiming that it would stop all but the most powerful muggle weapons.

Harry wasn't eager to test that claim, but was grateful to them both for the hard work they had put in. George and Lilith were both similarly attired, standing ready with their brooms. Neville had protested at being left behind, but there hadn't been time to make another outfit for him and if Harry was perfectly honest, Neville's spell craft left much to be desired. No, he much preferred his gentle friend to stay in Salem and look after it for him, especially in case things went badly at the quarry.

Harry pulled an old telephone handset from his robe's pocket and marveled at the constant stream of innovations that poured from the William and Weasely workshop. This device would permit anyone to talk to anyone else having a similar device, like a mobile phone from the old world. The only downsides to it was that it was a little bulky and couldn't reach more than a mile or so, a weakness that befuddled and embarrassed the irrepressible inventors.

The device changed color even as he held it, turning coal black and vibrating slightly in his hands. He lifted the device to his ear and greeted Barney, the color the phone changed to letting the receiver know who was calling.

"We're in position Mr. Potter." The man reported, his voice sounding small and far away, "We can see you approaching now. We'll be ready to move on your signal."

"Brilliant." Harry replied, "Just remember, the Constitution is going to fire at least two volleys before I give the signal, so don't move out before then."

"We got it, Mr. Potter sir! Excelsior!"

* * *

To the raiders in the quarry, it sounded as though heaven had rent open to spill its fury down on them, unleashing a cavalcade of fire and thunder. They scrambled for what cover they could find, quickly discovering that their ramshackle shelters of wood and steel availed them little, for the mighty guns of the Constitution sheered through sheet metal and smashed wood to kindling. Only the large stone blocks of the quarry offered any sanctuary, and only to those lucky enough to not be killed in the opening exchange, and keen enough to recognize the bulwark they provided.

Harry watched impassively as the robotic crew bustled around him, loading and firing the broadsides in horrendous salvoes which belched such a tumult of smoke and noise that the wizards and witches aboard had to shield themselves with magic to avoid being overcome by it. He clenched his broom tightly in his left hand while holding his wand with his right, watching for the perfect moment to signal the ground attack.

He noted that no structure erected by the raiders remained intact, and that there seemed to be no further movement from below. He nodded to the others, and as one, raised their wands and sent several bursts of red light soaring into the air like a shower of fireworks.

Not waiting to see if the signal was seen, Harry motioned to Ironsides to quit the broadsides and leapt off the side of the mighty ship, mounting his broom even as he plummeted to earth. He pulled up quickly and began a rapid corkscrew flight path down through the quarry, his wand flashing with destructive magic at any target that presented itself.

Barney noted the signal and the subsequent silencing of the frigate's guns and urged his team forward. The ground shook beneath the tread of the three power-armored Minutemen, their mini-guns held easily in their augmented fists despite the tremendous weight of the firearms.

The Salem heavy troopers followed behind, their black armor gleaming with polish as they hefted their own assault rifles and tried to reign in their zeal to keep from overtaking their living shields.

The armor they wore was a modification of heavy combat plates scavenged over the last several weeks and augmented with magic to be nearly impervious to bullets, lasers and plasma. Though they could still be overwhelmed under sufficient firepower, their task was to put down any aggression before enough firepower to threaten them could be brought to bear.

Despite the thickness of their armor plates, the suits weighed next to nothing, another benefit of the enchantments laid upon them. It allowed them freedom of movement unprecedented, and gave them an enormous advantage on a field where mobility counted for much.

The Minutemen fired on the move, scouring the rocks all around them with a storm of 5mm fire. Very little of their shots actually hit a raider, but it served extremely well to panic and un-man the cultists, despite their supposed fervor to their chindi masters. The Salem shock troopers peeled off from the Minutemen and drove the raiders from their holes with precision fire from their assault rifles, cutting down raiders left and right before they could evacuate into the open where any remaining men found themselves under the less than tender care of the soaring harbingers of destructions, the four men and women lashing out with their wands at any raider they saw.

The power armored Minutemen reached the bottom and fanned out to cover one another, the squads topside moving to the edge of the quarry and adding their own fire to the chaos and clamor.

Harry wasn't sure if it had been 15 minutes or 15 seconds, so loudly did his heart thunder in his ears, nearly enough to drown out the multitude of weapon discharges. Regardless, the shots petered out and silence fell heavy and thick in the Dunwich Bore.

He and the others made a few extra passes before landing at the bottom of the chasm, their eyes piercing the smoky gloom alert for any hidden dangers. A shape jogged easily toward them, their wands trained on the hidden figure until the smoke parted to reveal a grinning Barney Rook and his companion Reba.

"My boys are securing the area, Mr. Potter." Barney saluted, not making any effort at hiding the obvious glee in his face or tone.

"Did we lose anyone?" Harry asked tremulously.

"Not a single man." Barney responded enthusiastically.

"That's great news!" Harry exclaimed, relief clear in his posture, "Glad our plan worked out and things didn't get dodgy there. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, we still have a ways to go."

"On your word, Mr. Potter!"

Harry paused as Roger and Cranston joined them, both of them looking as though they had just chewed on rusted nails.

At Harry's quizzical expression, Reba leaned over and whispered, "There weren't any raiders left by the time their squads joined in."

Roger held up a hand in greeting while Cranston busied himself with cleaning his nails.

"Well, brilliantly done, everyone." Harry began, ignoring the sour expression on Roger's face, "It's time to move on to phase two. Barney, before the squads leave for the second part of our plan, I need some men to stay here and keep an eye on things up here."

Barney nodded and turned to Reba, "You and Cranston here will watch over the hole. Mr. Potter's safety is in your hands!"

He continued before Harry could argue, "Roger and I will take the rest and head out for Croup Manor. We'll see if we can flush anything nasty your way so you can have a bit of fun."

"Very generous of you sir." Reba replied sarcastically. She nudged Cranston who fell in line with her without a word. They moved off, gathering a squad each of Minutemen and Salem militia to do a thorough search of the quarry and keep sentries up top.

Barney noted the approach of the rest of Harry's team and moved off, placing his finger along his nose at Harry and smiling as if privy to some inside joke.

"Is it me, or is he getting stranger?" Harry remarked to Daphne, as soon as the happily whistling man was out of earshot.

Daphne opened her mouth to reply but shrieked in terror instead, actually leaping up into Harry's arms.

A thoroughly bewildered Harry held on to his sweetheart while searching out the source of her distress. His sight locked in on it and icy tendrils of fear tickled the base of his spine and made the hair on his neck stand up straight.

It was the size of a child of perhaps 7, a poor caricature of life with a clumsy stilted gait and eyes bereft of life. It appeared to be a doll made of plastic and wood, a barmy smile painted on its face and dressed in a blue and yellow vault suit.

"It's a Vault Boy!" George proclaimed gleefully, his sudden appearance nearly making Harry drop Daphne.

"I don't bloody care what it is, what the hell is it doing here?!" Daphne shouted, finally putting her legs back down and relieving Harry from having to keep holding her.

"It's coming with us! It's my muggle back up… you did say we each had to have one." George pointed out, motioning toward Fingers and Adam MacTavish, both skilled fighters who volunteered to join the expedition.

"I meant something… living, and not so… creepy."

"You're going to hurt his feelings." George cautioned, a serious look darkening his features.

"Wha… what?!" Daphne whispered.

"I'm only kidding! It's just a toy." George laughed.

"Only a toy." The doll stated evenly, silencing the entire group.

"Um, Mr. William didn't tell me it could do that." George murmured, crouching down and looking at the doll evenly.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when George finished his examination and stood up with a shrug.

Noting the disquieting looks, "Oh come on. We're going into a deep dark hole to confront evil ghosts who have driven a small army of raiders insane. You're seriously not going to get all buggered over a toy! Besides, we're going for the big win today Harry! Dunwich, Croup manor and any other nasty within miles of Salem is about to get an eviction notice!"

Harry was forced to agree, "By this time tomorrow the entire Northwest Commonwealth will be safe and firmly under Salem's protection. We'll finally have the breathing room we'll need."

"Wow, it's almost as if you are forging a nation up here." Daphne noted.

"Does that term really bear any meaning anymore?" Harry asked, rhetorically, "In any case, I'm doing this for all the people depending on us. This will send a clear warning to all those raiders and their ilk out there that Salem is not to be trifled with."

Harry's voice carried a hint of menace and Daphne had to admit, it kind of turned her on.

Harry gestured for the team to move out, with Fingers and Adam taking point. The door into the quarry interior opened with an ominous screech inviting them into the gloom with a rush of wind as the air pressure equalized.

* * *

 **POV: Susan, Luna**

The moonlight glowed silver along the grass, turning the field in to a glittering sea of twinkling motes as she strolled back to Sunshine. She noted the burned patches and the smell of blood in the air. Feeling the first hints of concern, she peered at the approaching walls and noted one section that was appeared almost black from the dried blood smeared all over it. She quickened her pace and was only slightly assuaged by the flags still fluttering from their mounts, the yellow sunburst on a green field of Sunlight and the crossed musket and lightning bolt of the Minutemen.

"Who goes there?!" Came the shouted challenge as she came within twenty yards of the gate.

She stepped a little closer to be in the light offered by the burn barrels and called up, "It's me! Susan Bones!"

Silence met her announcement, but just before she could call out again, the gates creaked open and Luna and Soleil came out.

Luna gasped when she saw her, "Susan? You looked awful. Did you douse yourself in paint?"

Soleil sniffed audibly, "That's blood Luna."

"Blood? Is it yours or somebody else's?" Luna asked.

"Gunners." Susan replied, "The Gunners that were in the Federal Reserve are dead. All of them."

"Oh Susan." Luna lamented.

"What?!" The redhead suddenly blazed, her eyes looking like white flames set on a black mask, "Oh Susan? Don't pity me Luna, don't you dare! I'm a Hufflepuff and Hufflepuffs believe in justice. Today, I bought a measure of justice for my Vincent and I won't be made to feel bad for it! Not by you or Harry or anyone!"

Soleil shrugged as Luna gaped at the outburst, so unused to such raw emotion from the quiet Susan.

"Susan did what her heart demanded. Besides, Vincent is worth a hundred of them. Susan just made a good start at squaring things."

Luna's expression turned to horror at Soleil's ready acceptance of what Susan had done. Susan smiled gratefully at the tall woman and walked in the settlement gates.

Soleil smiled sadly in sympathy to her friend and in an uncharacteristic show of affection, draped a sisterly arm over the witch's shoulder.

"I know it seems that we should be horrified, but that's how things are out here."

"I know." Luna replied, regaining her composure, "it's just that this is going to end up hurting Susan in the long run. You can't murder that many people and have it not affect you, especially for people like us. I'm afraid for her. I think she needs to go back to Salem for a while."

"That is probably for the best." Soleil agreed, "She's been through a lot and she needs to work through it. Best that she does that surrounded by people who love her."

* * *

Susan headed for the communal bathroom, hoping that the late hour would mean she would have it to herself and could spend some time showering the blood and sweat off her body. Though she could have just as easily used a simple charm to clean herself, she looked forward to letting warm water slough off the day's filth.

Sighing in anticipation, she let herself in and padded to the first stall, opening it and finding herself mere feet from a man enthusiastically thrusting in and out of a woman who was bent over in front of him. They noticed her standing there and shrieked in surprise, the sudden noise jolting Susan from her frozen shock and sending her slipping and scrambling for the open air.

She stops and leans against the wall just outside the bathroom and let's herself sink down to the ground, giggles erupting from her throat as she thought of what a sight she must have been… there the couple was, having sex, when the door opens to show a small figure covered in dried blood. It must have been terrifying!

She let the mirth play itself out and laid her head back against the cold metal wall, looking up at the stars as she waited for the couple to 'finish'.

She imagined what it would have been like, to be in that woman's place, but with Vincent behind her. His strong hands grasping her hips, his manhood plunging deeply into her while waves of pleasure cascaded through her body. Her eyes closed and a real moan escaped her lips as she immersed herself in the fantasy.

The haze of passion was blasted away when the door slammed open, the couple giggling to one another as they walked off, hand in hand.

The dream thoroughly lost, Susan felt the deepening gloom like a hole opening in her heart. She sank down even further as the overwhelming heartbreak urged her tears to flow anew.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello everyone, I imagine it must be something of a surprise to have an update so soon after the last one, especially after such a long hiatus between Chapters 7 and 8. But I just happened to have most of the outline for Chapter 9 fleshed out already. In fact, there was originally going to be much more, but as I wrote, I realized that the chapter would end up being far too long and found that this was a good point to end this chapter and go ahead and re-organize the rest into Chapter 10, so sorry that this chapter is slightly shorter than usual. Next Chapter will detail Harry and company's venture into the Dunwich Borer's quarry, so that along will take up quite a bit of space.

I would like to point out that though this outline was drafted a long time ago, the tenor of this chapter is somewhat reflective of some of the latest reviews that suggested the story was becoming less Potterverse centric. I hope that my modification will serve to correct the course of the story so that Harry and company aren't being sidelined.

Both Harry Potter and Fallout are extremely rich in both characters and atmosphere and care must be taken that one does not overshadow the other, a notion made somewhat more difficult in that the story takes place in the Fallout world. Hopefully I have accomplished this balance to some degree. Anyway, thank you for reading and as always, I welcome your reviews.


	11. Chapter 10: Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

Chapter 10: Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On – Big Maybelle

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

"Up high left!" Fingers growled, kneeling behind a rectangular block of white stone and opening fire at the ledge.

"Two dead ahead!" Adam added, firing several shots in the indicated direction, forcing the raiders there into cover.

Harry winced at how loudly the continuous stream of gunfire sounded in the quarry, every noise seemingly amplified and echoing with a disconcerting effect in the dim underground passages.

Sighing at the delay, Harry scanned the irregular passage/room and saw that the two raiders ahead of them were taking cover behind an ancient, rusted excavator. Nudging Daphne with his elbow, he motioned toward the vehicle with his wand and made a pushing motion with his free hand.

She nodded in understanding and lifted her wand, both of them working in tandem to force the excavator back violently. One of the raiders managed to dodge aside before the ancient machine slammed into the quarry wall, the other was far less lucky. In his attempt to move free, he had jumped upward onto the machine and ended up with his legs crushed between the flaking yellow hull and unyielding white stone.

His screams of anguish were silenced by a well-placed shot from Adam's combat rifle, the man continuing forward to flush out any remaining raiders in the immediate area. Despite the shielding charms the team had been blessed with, he continued to move tactically from cover to cover.

The entire area groaned ominously and a stream of stone dust showered them with white powder, making everyone glance upward in fear.

"Eyes!" Shouted Lilith.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut and bringing his face down saved him from being blinded by the brilliant flash. Still, the lightning was so bright that the glow penetrated his eyelids to tickle painfully at his nerves. The accompanying thunder shook the entire quarry, forcing everyone to grab hold of something to keep from being thrown.

"Ok, no more lightning in the tunnel!" Harry shouted over the ringing in his ears.

Many of their more destructive spells were proving ill-advised in the tunnels beneath the quarry. Fire would consume precious oxygen and leave them gasping for breath to die hundreds of feet beneath the surface, a grizzly fate no one desired. Now lightning was proving to be more trouble than it was worth, for the single raider Lilith killed, the tunnel now groaned even more dangerously than before.

Harry was determined though, and pressed his team onward through the quarry. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, however. That there were far fewer raiders inside then they were expecting not the least among their worries.

A few minutes later found them waiting patiently while Fingers disarmed the explosive weight scale beneath the third terminal they had come across. Harry had been carefully reading every entry, perusing them for any information that would help his people face off against the darkness below. He had been disgusted at the clear disregard for safety the old Dunwich Company had had for the workers back in the pre-war era, but mused that part of that blasé attitude may have been 'normal' by the standards of American culture of the time as well as the insidious influence of some enigmatic force or entity.

Harry pressed past his moral outrage and found information regarding both the raider presence and of mysterious circumstances that dated back as far as the quarry's heyday.

The raiders occupying the site were apparently a part of a larger group operating somewhere called, 'Saugus." On the second terminal, he had read of the disappearance of a group that had been sent below to clear out some ghouls.

"Alright, let's keep moving." Harry ordered, trying not to wince at how small his voice sounded.

Several more battles with scattered raiders later, the team found themselves overlooking a massive pit, at the bottom of which was some kind of large pump and a pair of raiders.

"Ah, yep. They've spotted us." Fingers announced, placing her rifle against the rail for support before proceeding to open fire on the approaching raiders.

Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge as he watched the pair approach at a run, their lumbering steps up the circular stairway wrapped around the edge of the pit, odd and stilting. Adam, Lilith and George added their firepower to Fingers' their movement jostling Harry from his stupor.

Mere feet from attaining the ledge with Harry's team, the last of the raiders slumped against the wall and stood very still. They stared at the body for what seemed an interminable time, a distant echoing drip their only meter for the passing ticks of the clock.

Finally summoning up their nerve, Harry led the way toward the slumped raider, nudging the woman with his toe. He stepped back and hit the rickety rail as the body slid down in a heap on the floor.

Harry released the breath he didn't realize he was holding and chuckled nervously at the others.

"Lumos" He murmured, feeling an odd sense of unease regarding the flood lights. He trusted his magic far more than any muggle technology anyway, especially in this place, where it seemed that the chindis' presence suffused everything with a palpable aura of trepidation.

Reaching out blindly, he clasped Daphne's hand and gripped it firmly when he heard her relieved sigh despite how clammy both of their hands were.

Taking the lead, Fingers and Andrew led the way down into pit, a large mechanism sitting squat and ugly in the middle of the floor. A terminal was mounted along one side that Fingers moved to while Andrew kept watch.

"It's not locked, I…" Finger's hands froze over the keyboard as she looked at the flickering green screen her already pale face turning a ghastly shade of white.

Harry peered over her shoulder and the words sent icy fingers of dread tickling down his spine.

'I'm safe in the light. I'm safe in the light. I'm safe in the light. I'm safe in the light. I'm safe in the light."

Over and over and over again.

"Any chance we're done here?" Lilith asked nervously, chuckling a bit to try and dispel the ominous shadow of dread settling over them. Her voice sounded tiny in the vast cavern and ended in a barely perceptible squeak.

"Is it at all weird that she wrote that… yet was sitting in the dark when we found her?" George wondered, seemingly less affected by the place that the others. His eerie companion, the 'vault-boy' stood canted at a strange angle and giggled as George reached down to pat it on the head.

Doing his best to ignore both the creepy animate doll and the pervasive aura within the bore itself, Harry reminded the group to renew their shielding charms then led the way toward the darkened tunnel.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

"No, they're all dead." Lilith announced, straightening up from where she had been examining the withered husk of ghoul's corpse. Her statement was punctuated by a deep earthly rumble, which sent streams of dust flowing like grey rivers from the ceiling.

"We'd best hurry… all this action is making the area even more unstable." Harry announced, following behind Andrew and Fingers as they led the way deeper.

Stepping through the chained wooden gate was like stepping into a different world, they all sensed… something pensive, as if a silent observer was taking note of their passage and was deeply invested in their progress.

Harry gave Daphne a slight smile of reassurance, her face having gone even paler since they first entered the bore.

"Do you feel it?" She whispered to him, her eyes twitching about to the bodies lying all about them.

Harry took a breath to respond when suddenly the scene about them changed.

It was like viewing the world through tinted goggles, the blurred sepia tones reminiscent of old silent films. They saw living men working and talking to one another, though their lips moved, no sound issued forth.

It was a window into the past, Harry realized, a snapshot of history from before the Great War.

As suddenly as it came it disappeared, the stark gray reality slamming into him like a physical blow. Confusion marked the faces of his companions, affirming to him that he was not alone in bearing witness to the vision of the past.

They had no time to ruminate on the implications, as Lilith suddenly cried out in terror, her right arm wrenched painfully and pulled into the slavering maw of a creature directly from some horror film.

Harry was nearly frozen in shock and terror, yet managed to raise his wand and blast the nightmarish creature from her. Lilith collapsed onto the ground, whimpering and holding the bloody ruin of her arm. Straddling her protectively, Andrew fired into the sudden press as more and more of the hideous creatures assailed them.

Fingers cried out as she was clubbed from behind by a man shaped creature that looked as though it had been a man once, though horribly charred and yet didn't have the good sense to lay down and die. She slammed face first into an outcropping of stone, her blood leaving a spatter on the white surface as she staggered back from it.

Despite the risk, Harry knew his team needed the breathing room and so enacted a powerful spell. He pointed his wand at the ground and fed the growing dweomer his considerable power, sweat beading on his forehead as his body trembled under the strain.

Releasing the power, a force wave of immense strength rolled out from his focal point to pass harmlessly past his friends but having a markedly different effect on the 'creatures'.

Helpless against the tidal force acting against them, the horde was flung back with terrifying strength, several of them impacting the walls of the quarry hard enough to shift the rock. Those slid down the rock wall and lay still, their body's broken and their living death finally spent.

Still, enough remained to be a threat and Harry didn't rest on his laurels as they were pressed again.

Andrew cried out as the charred ghoul he was fighting knocked his weapon away and bit down hard on his shoulder. Fingers, having somewhat recovered despite the copious blood running down her face, pressed her pistol to the ghoul's head and blasted it away from him.

Lilith groped along the ground with her left arm, her right hanging useless and bloody and her eyes blinded by the pain induced tears. Harry nudged her wand into her questing hand and turned his attention to Daphne, who was busily fending off another of the ghouls.

Before he could act, she flung it straight into the air and brought it slamming back down on one of its fellows like a fleshy hammer, the crack of breaking bones audible even over the horrible screeching of the other creatures and the weapon fire.

George fought with the last two, his eerie puppet stubbornly clinging to one of the creatures and distracting it long enough for George to vivisect the other.

"Eeww. Remind me not to use that one again." He muttered distastefully, his 'sectumsempra' having effectively quartered the attacking ghoul, "Unless there is some pressing need for ghoul stew."

"God, George." Fingers remarked, "Really?"

George shrugged apologetically, his face taking on a very chagrinned expression as Lilith vomited loudly into a corner.

"You mind… that last one there?" Andrew shakingly pointed out, his skin taking on a pale, waxy appearance as blood poured from his ghastly wound.

Hurrying to his side, Daphne murmured a quick charm to close the wound and pulled out a stimpack to further stabilize him.

George turned in the indicated direction and noted that the last ghoul was still struggling against his 'vault boy', the anime puppet clubbing it about the head as it twirled in a mad attempt to dislodge the thing.

He waved his wand with an almost lazy air, sending an angry red bolt into the creature's chest and putting an end to its struggles. It fell face first into the rocky floor, the puppet still beating on it as it toppled.

"That's it boy. You can stop now. Good job."

The 'vault boy' giggled at the praise and walked over to stand next to George, its gleaming eyes seemingly aglow with pride.

Harry suppressed a shudder at it, wondering if George had imbued the thing with some semblance of personality.

"Think we're getting close?" Harry joked weakly, as he moved to check on Lilith.

She looked up as he crouched next to her, her eyes wide and teeth chattering as if the woman was chilled. Harry frowned with worry as he examined her, and found that the creature had madly mauled her right arm.

"We'll get you patched up, but I think you three need to go back up."

"We ca…can't le… le… leave you da… down here." Lilith stuttered, her voice going quieter as she swayed unsteadily.

"You're bad off, Lilith." Harry explained, "Your arm is probably broken and Andrew there isn't much better. Fingers probably has a concussion from meeting the wall like that. In fact, George should probably go with you to make sure you all make it out safely."

The area was suddenly filled with their clamor as they all loudly and vehemently opposed Harry's assessment. Harry stood firm and was grateful when Daphne lent her support for his plan.

"Well, at least take vault boy with you." George added when he finally conceded the point.

Harry's blanch must have been emphatic, for the others chuckled at his expense, even Daphne, who laughed aloud at his sudden fear of the doll.

Daphne's laughter turned into a shriek as the vault boy cocked its head to regard her and perfectly imitated her tittering laugh.

Shifting their supplies around, the group prepare to separate despite their misgivings. Harry smiled reassuringly at them all as they turned around to look back at him and Daphne, their faces still reticent over the decision to go back to the surface. Harry waved them on and determinedly marched away, Daphne following in his wake.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

They moved gingerly past the evidence of previous battles, the ill-fated raider expeditions to clear out the ghouls in order to access more salvage for their operations at Saugus.

They had sent the 'vault-boy' on ahead, thinking that if there were any further traps or ambushes awaiting them, better for it to fall upon the creepy doll than them. Both of them looking anywhere except directly ahead at the scampering gait of the child-sized toy.

They didn't have long to wait, as a short time later as the twisting passage widened into another cavern, the 'vision' took hold of them a second time, again transporting them into the past. As the echoes of a bygone age faded from their eyes, a torrent of horrifically scarred ghouls again appeared to assail them, only this time, it was only the pair of them.

Much better prepared now, Harry evoked an image from his own memory. He remembered the cavern of the false horcrux, and the inferi that haunted that terrible place. He remembered Albus Dumbledore, mighty wizard, who had conjured a wall of flame that kept them at bay.

Summoning up his inner strength, Harry did now what Dumbledore did then, waving his wand around above his head as a tendril of flame, like a red-orange serpent, coalesced and mirrored his movements. He grit his teeth in concentration as he pressed… more, More!

The serpent became a river, then swelled still further into a mighty torrent of hungry fire. The ghouls shied back from the flame, but Harry did not allow them surcease, widening his wave of fire to at first lick at their flesh, then to consume them utterly.

He closed his eyes against the raspy cries and horrid gasps of pain, tears tickling at the edge of his eyes either from the heat or from the devastation he was wreaking on the poor souls trapped within shrouds of irradiated flesh.

He started as something cool pressed against his arm, so much that his flames died away and he opened his eyes to see his love standing before him, sweat beading like tiny diamonds on her forehead.

"It's done, Harry. They're gone."

He looked around at the evidence of his fury and saw for himself the truth of her words. The ghouls were indeed gone, save for small smears of ash along the walls as the remnants of the ghouls were swept up by the flaming river.

He sagged as he released a pent up breath, tired from the exertion of conjuring such powerful magic. Daphne conjured a cool breeze and let it waft about them both, the vision of her blonde hair dancing around her head bringing a smile to Harry's face.

He leaned in and clasped the back of Daphne's head, bringing her in and drinking deeply the taste of her lips. He tasted the sweetness mixed with salt, her soft lips parting to accept him fully. He lost himself in the kiss, his body reacting on impulse to the sensation of her soft skin against his own, of her breasts pressed against his chest. He felt her breath quicken and her heart hammering in her chest as their kiss became more frantic, as if endowed by the fiery wave with a fierce heat that eclipsed all else. Or maybe they merely exulted in their life and their love, despite being surrounded by despair and decay. Both of them desperate for some reassurance that there was more to the world than grumbling earth and hungry spirits.

Emotionally spent, they withdrew from each other and gifted one another with a satisfied smile, their hearts and spirits buoyed against the darkness. Hand in hand they moved further, walking slowly but determinedly for the dark passage at the other end of the cavern.

Harry paused when he felt resistance. Looking back curiously, he spied Daphne bending over to pick something up off the ground. Admiring the view for a moment, he nearly missed what she said.

"Hrmm… sorry, what?"

Daphne straightened and looked back at him, a sly looking coming over her features as she inferred what had distracted Harry. She winked at him, with all the vivacious innuendo that the gesture implied, a suggestive smile gracing her face and the unspoken promise of ecstasy writ all over her.

Setting that aside for now… with difficulty! Harry looked at what Daphne had found. A small figurine of a blonde man in a vault suit in a pose that suggested he was trying to be stealthy.

"Doesn't Jonathan collect those? I remember seeing a few of them at his home." Harry mused.

"He does. I don't think he has this one. Hopefully he doesn't mind it being a bit… melty."

"Can you still read it?" Harry asked.

"Mhmm… 'The safest route between two points is a shadowy line'. Well, if it's supposed to say that, then I guess you can."

Harry grinned at the poor joke and led Daphne onward toward the tunnel. They had barely stepped within when a third vision overwhelmed them under a blanket of dread.

Far different from the others, this vision depicted a scene of blissful worship, otherwise normal people kneeling on the ground with their faces twisted in grotesque expressions of adoration. They were arranged in a semi-circle around a pool of water which surrounded… something. Harry couldn't quite make it out from the angle and when he moved closer, the vision suddenly came to an end.

The horrid raspy screech served as the prologue for yet another attack, though somehow Harry had the distinct impression that these wretches were the worshippers from the vision.

The light from his wand dimmed noticeably and he recoiled at the mad glimmer in the creature's eyes. Daphne gasped as shadowy tendrils exuded from the reaching arms of the closest ghoul and touched them with like the sibilant whisper of a serial killer.

Their initial shock dissipated as they realized the mortal danger they were in. Wands raised in determination, the pair unleashed their power into the approaching group, blasting them back and breaking their ruin upon the rocky floor.

As each ghoul fell under their assault, a black shadow seemed to detach itself from the falling corpse to scream into small pool of water beside them. As the last enemy collapsed in pieces, the final shadow seemed to glare at them with malevolence before joining its fellows in the still pool.

The water was like black glass, perfectly still and reflected almost no light… it seemed to drink in the light from Harry's wand and added to the gloom of the chamber.

"We have to go in there don't we?" Daphne asked tremulously.

"Afraid so. The chindi escaped down there and to put a stop to this… we have to follow."

A macabre titter from the side reminded them of the doll's presence, a discomfiting

Her sigh was almost a whimper and Harry tried to comfort her briefly with a hug. Girding themselves against the fear of the unknown depths… they stripped down to their knickers and cast a bubble head charm on themselves.

Dipping a toe tentatively into the pool, Harry pulled it back with a hiss.

"What is it?!" Daphne gasped in alarm.

"Cold… very cold." Harry warned, his entire body shivering to shake off the brief contact.

Armed with that new information, they quickly casted charms to protect themselves from the unnatural chill. Harry graced Daphne with a reassuring smile and dove in before he lost his nerve. Daphne took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly before diving in after him.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

The instant his head broke through the water's surface, Harry felt as though he had entered another world. A tiny sphere extending a mere few feet around him was the extent that his lumos charm could pierce the gloom. The water seemed to drink in all sound as well, leaving him in a silence so profound that he could hear his heart thundering in his chest like a percussive drumbeat. He could only hope that it didn't portend his doom.

Harry pulled up short when a metallic glint greeted his light, his sudden stop making Daphne crash into him from behind. Looking at her pale face apologetically, he motioned toward the bottom of the shaft to the closed eye of a massive metallic statue or formation.

The water carried reverberations as the complex shook once again, their curiosity suddenly depleted with the overt reminder that their time was limited. Looking around, Harry found a single side passage and took hold of Daphne's arm to point her in that direction. Nodding at him, she followed as he swam for it.

At some point in the past, the unstable cavern had deposited the altar of the cult or whatever deeper underground, the side passage having widened into a small chamber which looked remarkably intact despite the instability of the quarry around it.

Before they could investigate more closely, a discordant series of wails assailed their ears and nearly sent them scrambling back up out of the shaft.

Disparate shadowy entities coalesced all around them and before either could react, the shadows dove straight into them, sending a jolt of supernatural cold surging through their bodies.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry convulsed as he felt his nerves set on fire. He could feel the spirit trying to overwhelm him with sheer willpower, commanding his body to move even as he attempted to maintain control. It was trying to possess him!

Harry summoned up all the memories of his lessons with Professor Snape, and as the foreboding Potion's master had instructed, attempted to discipline his mind.

He felt the other will abate under his iron control, his own will asserting its dominance. He imagined himself 'pushing' the influence from his body. When he next opened his eyes, it was with a flash of triumph, for he remained Harry Potter.

He glanced at Daphne and his heart stopped, for the red malevolence in her gaze told him that she had not succeeded in her battle. With a screech he should not have been able to hear, she lunged at him, her sharp fingernails cutting into his arms as they grappled.

Her mouth opened wide in a grotesque pantomime of passion, her teeth glinting like white steel in the feeble light. She lunged again and again for his throat while he struggled to keep her at bay. His heart was torn between the need to protect himself and the desire to not hurt his love.

* * *

 **POV: Daphne**

Tears sprang unbidden from her eyes as she fell back under Harry's murderous gaze, his strong hands grasping her wrists painfully as he bore her down. She had come out of the battle of wills triumphant, but it appeared that her beloved had not.

He licked his lips lasciviously as she thudded against the floor, her moans of pain and despair seemingly driving him to greater heights of madness. He stunned her with a vicious slap, she recovered only to find his fingers wrapped around her neck closing like a vice.

'Where is my wand!' She screamed in her head, even as black dots swirled in her vision. His fingers were like cold iron wrapped around her throat, not even a whisper of air making it through to her burning lungs.

Her hands scrambled along the rocky ground as she groped for her wand… searching for some advantage.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

She hissed in delight, a line of saliva dripping from her lips to spatter on his cheek. Harry closed his eyes to shut out the awful vision of his sweet Daphne so twisted… wait. Something…

They were underwater and had used the bubble head charm to breathe. Sound was so muted that he could hear his own heartbeat yet how was it that he could hear Daphne clearly and become splattered with her drool?

He opened his eyes again, focusing his gaze on Daphne despite his instinctual revulsion. No bubble head charm! In fact, the chamber they were in was lit by candles… candles! Underwater! It wasn't real!

His palpable relief was stymied by the very real sensation of her claws digging into his arms. Despite the sharp pain, he looked calmly at her and said, "This isn't real."

The remark actually made the apparition of Daphne pause in its assault.

"THIS ISN'T REAL!" He screamed, actually driving the nightmare from him and forcing it back.

* * *

 **POV: Daphne**

Daphne's chest heaved with the need for air as Harry choked the life from her, his face twisted and evil as it leered over her. As if from a great distance, she actually heard Harry's voice, but not coming from the man above her.

'This isn't real.'

"This isn't real?" Daphne repeated… her shock at being able to speak despite being choked reinforcing the message.

She cleared her throat and spoke firmly, "This isn't real."

With a moan, the vision of Harry broke apart in black shadows and the real Harry, his eyes filled with concern took its place. Her relief at the sight nearly sent her into a renewed frenzy of sobbing cries. She choked it back with difficulty as he reached down and grasped her hand gently in his own. He pulled her up, bracing himself against the chamber wall and took her in his arms, the dark and cold water again robbing them of almost all sound.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

The relief he felt at holding Daphne, HIS Daphne, was without bounds. He clung to her desperately, as if reassuring himself of her warm presence merely through touch. After what seemed an eternity, he let her go and looked at her questioningly.

She nodded and smiled, indicating that she was alright. He returned her smile and looked back at the altar, anger spiking through him at the torment the chindi had visited upon them. He made to swim over to it when the light of his wand suddenly went out and icy cold water suddenly rushed in and slammed into his face.

Had his bubble head charm expired already? How long had they been engaged in the mental contest? Holding his breath, he brandished his wand, repeating the charm.

Nothing.

His forehead creasing in concern, he tried again… nothing. Keeping his mouth closed as best as he could, he mouthed the incantation for light, but again… nothing.

He felt Daphne begin to struggle beside him, and horror spiked through him as he realized that Daphne was also unable to use her magic. He felt her begin to panic and thrash beside him, nearly clobbering him as she began to swim desperately. He grabbed her, almost roughly and pulled her to him, fumbling in the cold, dark water until she calmed somewhat.

'This was it.' He thought morosely, 'This is how we die.'

The contest of wills and the deception was merely a distraction. The chindi bided their time and made it so that their magic would expire, leaving them at the mercy of whatever magical suppression ability they had so that they would simply drown and join them in their watery grave.

His lungs burned and he had to clamp down on his rising terror as his body fought almost on its own to find precious air. He held on to Daphne as tightly as he could, at least they would be together. He felt her hand questing along his face to his mouth, then her lips were on his. A final tender kiss.

"The chindi have power only over feelings and perceptions."

Helena! She must have followed them somehow! Harry focused on what she had said… chindi only have power over feelings and perceptions? Then their magic isn't suppressed at all? That realization was all that was needed, for he found himself suddenly able to see, both he and Daphne still protected by their bubble head charms.

Daphne's eyes and mouth were shut tight against the vision that still assailed her so Harry, thinking quickly, began to tickle her relentlessly. Her eyes popped open in surprise and before she could stop herself, a giggle escaped her mouth. She laughed for a moment then shut her mouth tightly again, her eyes widened in shock.

Her face screwed up in confusion when she realized the implications of her mirth. She took a deep breath and looked around, relief making her shoulders visibly slump. Her face took on a look of annoyance, telling Harry that she was more than done with this place.

The shadowy apparitions of the chindi glared at them as they rose from the altar, both Harry and Daphne wilting beneath the combined malice in their gaze. A flash of a nude and desecrated Daphne flashed in his mind, making him gasp and his heart shudder. A similar sound escaped Daphne's throat, telling Harry that she too experienced some kind of vision.

The circle of chindi wafted forward through the murk, as Harry saw Hermione and Jon crucified above a burning Salem. He heard his mother screaming in the backdrop of a nuclear explosion, the wall of fiery death sweeping away everything he held dear.

Like a dementor's kiss, the chindi were robbing them of positive emotions and placing nightmares in their place… but Harry knew how to combat that sort of attack.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The room, which had not been lit in hundreds of years, was suddenly awash in silver light as Harry's patronus surged from his wand and drove back the dark feelings and horrible visions. The chindi hissed and fell back from the shield, their movements frenetic as they appeared to scramble around each other to escape it.

"Drive them into the god they worshipped in life!"

"What?" Harry muttered, his concentration firmly on driving the chindi away.

"The statue, Potter! The statue! Their god slumbers but his hunger is eternal. It will devour them and still not awaken."

Harry made a note to ask Helena just how she knew so much about this place but followed her advice. The chindi were becoming even more frantic when it became apparent to them what he intended. Still he pressed onward, forcing them back even as they tested the shield constantly. Whatever fate awaited them with their 'god' was starting to overwhelm their fear of the patronus, and it was starting to wear on him.

"Expecto Patronum!" Daphne cried, and suddenly his waning shield was bolstered by hers. Their faces a twin of the other in their grim determination, the pair stalked forward, the chindi unable to withstand the positive energy of their combined patronus. The spirits went into a frenzy as they were forced down the shaft, Harry and Daphne struggling to maintain their focus while swimming downward.

The first of the evil spirits unleashed a hellish shriek as a tendril of its form touched the metal face of the somnolent god. It tugged and pulled to no avail, the wispy shadow of its form captured by an even darker presence that pulled it in and consumed it utterly.

The remaining ghosts renewed their struggles but were powerless to effect an escape. Harry got the distinct impression that their pitiful wails were the equivalent to a desperate plea for mercy. Unfortunately for them, he reserved his mercy for the living. The last of the chindi winked out of existence with a discordant chorus of dying shrieks, as the last tones of dismay fell to silence, a new sound rose to take its place.

The water cleared somewhat upon the death of the chindi but began to darken again as earth began to slough off from the chamber walls and muddy the waters. Realizing that the chamber was on the verge of collapse, the pair of them wasted no time in getting up and out of the water. Judicious use of the ascendio charm launched them clear over the lip of the pool to come crashing down in the dry passage.

The entire quarry was rumbling ominously now, streams of dust and gravel raining from the ceiling and an unrelenting cascade.

George's puppet friend was entirely bereft of animate energy, it merely stood hunched and still, bearing no further vestige of its former creepiness.

Logging that mystery for later, Harry helped Daphne to her feet and together they ran for the larger chamber, hoping that it would prove more stable.

That hope was dashed as blocks weighing tons fell like thunder all around them, the entire complex clearly on the brink of collapse.

"Daphne! We have no choice! We have to apparate to the surface!"

She made to reply but sucked in a mouthful of dust, hacking and choking on the grit but nodding vigorously despite it.

Harry closed his eyes tightly and grabbed her arm, focusing his will and sending them magically to the surface.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

There was a loud ringing… that much he knew.

His stomach cramped and for the third time in as many minutes, he emptied the contents of his bowels onto the stone floor.

He was only barely aware of the concerned looks and friendly hands that grasped at him, his vision blurring amidst the pain and nausea roiling around in him. He reached out and clasped a clammy hand and hoped that it belonged to his Daphne as another wracking pain ignited in his stomach. Blessed darkness overcame him as a sharp pain penetrated his arm.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Her foot kicked up 200 year old dust, the ancient dirt tickling her nose and threatening to send her into a sneezing fit.

"Achoo!" She squeaked, unable to restrain her impulse.

"Bless you." Jonathan grinned.

She blushed at him in chagrin, cringing a little at the less than auspicious start to their 'quiet' infiltration.

Correctly guessing the source of her embarrassment, "It's not any louder than these two." Jonathan remarked, indicating the pair of robots that accompanied them.

Ada had been refitted to more fully emulate the factory specification assaultron, though her armor had been hardened and augmented well beyond those pre-war standards. Despite all his attempts to dampen her noise and yet maintain her deadly grace of movement, her footsteps still echoed with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer pounding on sheet metal.

The other robot, an automaton that Jonathan lovingly called, 'Tesla', was even less stealthy than his counterpart. His body was a true kitbash, with the treads of a robo-brain, the body of a protectron and the arms of a sentry-bot. He was their heavy fire support, sporting a gatling laser on one arm and a lightning gun on the other. He was certainly not built for stealth, with his treads grinding on the pavement like a giant chewing gravel.

She smiled in gratitude at his attempt to assure her and to make up for it, cast a quick charm that dampened the ruckus the robots made as they moved through the old Robco storefront.

"Hrmmm…" Jonathan mused, as he studied the arch criss-crossed with numerous lasers, "What do you think? Kinda get the feeling we aren't wanted…"

Hermione rolled his eyes at his lame attempt at humor. She moved next to him and had to catch herself at the involuntary shiver that always seem to catch her off guard whenever she was close to him. She coughed to cover her momentary lapse and peered at the electronic barricade.

"Confuto." She murmured, waving her wand in a small circle toward the arch.

She smiled triumphantly at her newly crafted spell's effect, cocking her head expectantly to the General as the laser lights flickered and winked out.

"That's handy! What exactly did you just do?"

"I researched a new charm while you were playing with your robots." Hermione explained excitedly, "It temporarily changes the way electricity flows through an object, which from what I know of muggle devices, tends to disrupt their operation."

"Magnificent! You came up with a brand new piece of magic while I was… ahem, 'upgrading' Ada and Tesla? Is there anything you can't do?"

Hermione positively glowed from his praise, her cheeks reddening as she turned to face him and realized just how close he was to her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body and his scent filled her nostrils and sent tingles throughout her body. If she didn't know better, she would have believed that he had doused himself in love potion to elicit that kind of response.

He grinned, clearly aware of the effect he was having on her, for it was the same effect she had on him. Impulse seized him and he cupped her left cheek in his hand and pressed his lips down on hers. His blood became afire when she moaned against his mouth, her lips opening and her hot breath mingling with his own as she pressed her body against his.

They were lost within each other until the clomping stride of Ada broke them from their reverie.

"I believe the dampening effect of your magic is waning." Ada provided, drawing their attention to the low hum building up in the re-activating arch.

They hurried through before the arch could completely reactivate, Jonathan quickly noting the strange looking turrets located above each doorway along the short passage. Gently pushing Hermione along with him, they came out the other side with the robots in tow.

Moments later, the lasers flickered back to life and the passage was once again warded against entry.

"Maybe we should hold off on any snogging until we're done here?" Hermione suggested sardonically, raising her eyebrow at a flustered General despite the hammering of her own heart.

"Right." Jonathan stated flatly, but winking at her to assure her of his light intent.

"You! So the foul scourge of the Commonwealth dares to invade my sanctum? I will end your tyranny for the good of the…"

Jonathan blasted the eyebot into scrap, more than tired of listening to the Mechanist's rhetoric. The man had a confusing habit of reversal, attempting to levy the ills of the Commonwealth on them while continuing to parrot his intention to bring good to the people of the Commonwealth. Hermione doubted very much that being murdered by robots is what the people considered 'good'.

The shattered remnants of the eyebot had hardly settled on the ground before red warning klaxons blared and flashed, while pods opened with a hiss of steam and angry looking robots emerged, weapons raised.

Hermione and Jonathan went back to back, while Ada leapt into the fray and directly engaged the closest robotic adversary. Tesla's programming kept it from activating its weaponry, as it's sophisticated IFF kept it from firing so close to allied combatants.

Hermione wielded a whip of lightning, the crackling energy spitting off arcs as she swept her wand in front of her defensively. The bare mechanism of the protectron-type robot spat and hissed as its components reacted poorly with her conjured lightning. In moments, the surges of electricity overcame its paltry defenses and it fell to the ground in jerking spasms as molten bits of circuitry 'bled' from its frame.

Opposite her, Jonathan quickly dispatched two robots, his specially modified plasma repeater sending super-heated bolts of green energy into their neck joints. The first robot's head simply exploded up and away from its torso from the deluge, while its partner simply disintegrated into a sludge of goo.

Ada swept her flaming sword arm up and out through the chestplate of the robot she had been fighting, the critical gash spewing hydraulic fluid like a spray of blood. It fell with a crash and Ada stepped back, her own IFF radar scanning the area.

"Area clear sir." She announced.

"That's a good start!" Jonathan announced cheerfully, noting that no one had been hurt of damaged.

"Let's hope that our luck holds out." Hermione murmured grimly, aware that this underground factory complex could be host to an army of mechanical menaces.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione crinkled her nose at the jars of disembodied brains, the green hued glass reflecting their torchlight grotesquely.

Jonathan frowned distastefully as he stepped back from the terminal he had hacked, nearly bumping into the menacing machine that seemingly served the dual purpose of creeping her out and of extracting brains from their 'subjects'.

"This whole place is disgusting. They took prisoners, mentally-ill patients, healthy men and women… even children. No matter how our confrontation with the Mechanist turns out… we're destroying all of this."

Hermione laid a hand on his arm and nodded in agreement, her own morality unsettled by the macabre experiments conducted to create these, 'robo-brains.'

Continuing through the labs, they followed some auto-gurney tracks into what looked like a massive morgue.

"Watch out!" Ada shouted, Jonathan and Hermione trusting her so implicitly that they leapt back without even thinking.

A flash of lightning scored the wall where they just stood, and soon the entire area was lit by muzzle flashes from machine gun turrets and a massive tank like robot, which thundered at them with smaller robots flanking it.

Jonathan primed a pulse grenade and threw it underhand to skitter across the floor, the envelope of electromagnetic energy bursting open directly beneath the abomination. It skittered to a halt and seemed to lurch, but quickly recovered and began to spool up its laser weapons.

Hermione leaned over Jonathan's crouching form and placed her hand over his eyes. Trusting her, the General closed his eyes tightly.

"Baubilious!" She shouted, a massive torrent of lightning assailing his optic nerves even through his closed eyelids and her protective hand.

He opened his eyes and blinked away the spots of color that danced in his vision, gently guiding a similarly impeded Hermione aside as he raised his plasma rifle and fired several bursts at the obviously damaged robot.

Recognizing a cascading system failure, he pulled Hermione close to him and shielded her with his body just as a wave of heat washed over his back. His armor and Hermione's protective charms did their work well, for he barely felt the licking flames or the patter of shrapnel against his back.

Hermione peered out from Jonathan's protective embrace and noted that she could barely make out anything past the roiling black smoke belching from the metal monstrosity. She used her wand to blow the smoke away and noted that the escorting robots had been immolated in the blast but the turrets were still active.

Now that she had cleared the air, the turrets could 'see' them again, and began to rain fire on their position. Jonathan turned and fired with a speed and accuracy that was supernatural, destroying the first turret, rolling to a kneeling position and destroying the second in the same breath.

"Whew." He breathed, "Maybe we should have Tesla take the lead from now own… he can take more of this kind of punishment than we can."

The mute robot seemed to agree, as it issued some kind of grumble from deep within its frame and rolled forward to do just that.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione couldn't help but be a little put off by the foul smelling sludge that they trudged through. The air was heavy with the scent of sour oil and burnt electrical components, the acrid combination of which tickled her nose uncomfortably.

Tesla continued to roll ahead of them, which had proven to be a wise move considering the number of times it had taken the first few hits of a robotic assault.

"Here we go again." She breathed, immediately regretting opening her mouth as she could now taste the oily patina on her tongue.

"Just be glad this stuff isn't volatile." Jonathan shouted, over the sudden clamor of combat, "We'd be in deep trouble if this stuff was flammable."

'I'll be glad when I'm not trudging through two hundred years of dead robot juice.' Hermione seethed, smashing aside a robot before it could fully land, breaking its body against the gantries lining the sides of the large chamber.

"I think we need to head up that way." The General grunted as he lifted a robot from the ground and hurled it at another as it rose from the muck. He drew his sidearm and finished them off with precise shots to their 'heads'.

Hermione looked up and saw what he was referring to, some kind of large metal door high up along the far wall. Sighing dramatically, she flourished her wand and lifted the four of them without preamble up toward a gently swaying gantry. She couldn't quite suppress the glee as Jonathan yelped, kicking his feet ineffectually as he rose from the muck unexpectedly.

"You mind letting me know the next time you do that?" He grumbled, to which Hermione could only laugh. He flashed her a quick grin, letting her know that he was meant the comment lightly, despite the faux dark look plastered on his face.

The four of them continued deeper into the Mechanist's lair, fighting off the occasional waves of robotic resistance before finally arriving into some sort of staging area, a curiously constant clackety clack noise filling the cavernous space and putting to Hermione's mind the sound a multitude of giant metal insects might make.

"So! The foul villains have penetrated my sanctum and to face me!" A heavily synthesized voice boomed, "Your reign of terror comes to an end, cretins! I will cleanse the Commonwealth of your filth and bring peace to the people!"

"The peace of the grave? I don't think that's the sort of help MY people need!" Jonathan retorted, his voice thick with anger.

"Silence evil one! Your words will avail you nothing here! I will end you, here and now!"

"Evil one?" Hermione murmured quietly, what was this 'mechanist' playing at?

"What are you talking about!?" Jonathan roared in frustration, "You are the one murdering innocents!"

"Enough! I will hear no more of your lies! My robotic army will put an end to the scourge… that is you! Sparks! Initiate plan 9!"

The lights in the room noticeably dimmed as a heavy grinding sound reverberated through their feet and rattled their teeth uncomfortably.

"Look out!" Hermione cried, as she raised her wand and blasted a robot just as it entered from a previously unseen cargo door. Jonathan raised his gauss rifle and began to scan and fire at the multitude of robots surging in from seemingly every direction.

"A valiant effort! But my minions are Legion! The Commonwealth deserves justice, and I will be its arbiter!"

"I'd pay real money if he'd shut up." Jonathan muttered, kicking at a robot as it cleared the lift that opened right at their feet. Its head popped off with an audible clang and struck the chest of another robot as it bore down on them.

Hermione cried out as a laser burned along her arm, the stinging wound bringing tears to her eyes. She gritted her teeth and lashed out with her power, shattering the automaton who had shot her. She turned and locked gazes with Jonathan, whose eyes were filled with worry for her. She shook her head and nudged him to keep his mind on the maelstrom of enemies swirling about them.

"Sparks! Activate the minebots!"

"Minebots… that doesn't sound good." Hermione murmured, as much to herself as to the General.

A veritable wave of eyebots surged into the room, and from the ominous blinking red light they each had, she hazarded a guess that they didn't want them to get too close.

"Hold them off for a moment!" She shouted over the clamor. She felt more than saw Jonathan's nod.

"Ada! Tesla! Suppressive fire! Keep those eyebots back!"

"Compliance." Ada monotone, her rapid fire laser cutting through the swaths of approaching eyebots. Each one struck exploded and showered the immediate area with white hot shrapnel.

Tesla let his actions be his response, as he spooled up his gatling laser and swept his weapon from side to side, not even bothering to engage his targeting protocols.

Hermione drew deep within the very core of her power, feeling it coil within her like a ball of lightning. Sweat stung her eyes and she closed them as she felt the tingle of excess electricity make the hair on her neck stand on end. The sensation bordered on painful, the power tapping against her nerves like a musician and surging a profound tremble throughout her body. She opened her eyes and nearly closed them again to shield from the glare, a nimbus of blue white light radiating from her entire body. Lifting her wand, she focused the power into its tip and whipped it around, defining the boundary of the enormous wave the sprung into life around them.

The blue white energy swirled with electrical currents as it expanded outward from Hermione's protected area, growing as if to fit within the confines of the staging area. To her regret, she couldn't make the wave front sweep through the Mechanist's control room without also affecting their two robotic companions. However, she smiled in grim satisfaction as the wave of electromagnetic energy swept the room clear of robots, the eyebots exploding in a rippling wave of orange fire against the backdrop of the blue curtain of energy.

"What?! You will not escape justice so easily!"

"Easy? That man is a nutter." Hermione growled.

"Sparks! Reroute power!"

A series of answering bleeps, most of which sounded rather forlorn, seemed to prophesize the sudden loss of power that darkened the room and leaving the chamber with a heavy silence that had a tone of finality to it.

Red emergency lighting sprang to life as the Mechanist railed behind his shielded command center.

"Now that's enough! We came here talk! Will you finally stop this nonsense long enough to listen?" Hermione's tone indicating that she was prepared to tolerate very little else from this costumed antagonist.

"Very well." The Mechanist sounded rather defeated, "I will listen to what you have to say."

A ramp descended to the left of the command center and the so-called Mechanist marched partway down the metal slope, his eyebot floating serenely at his shoulder.

Jonathan laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder and spoke up, "Mechanist. We are not the 'evil' that you assume us to be." He turned, indicating Ada, "This is Ada. She was built by a trader named Jackson and was travelling through the Commonwealth for trade and salvage. Your robots ambushed and massacred that caravan."

"Impossible! Lies!"

"I'm not finished!" Jonathan roared, his voice so powerful and bellicose that it even made Hermione step back in intimidation.

"We resolved to stop these robots and tracked several of your 'robobrains' including one called Jezebel. After analyzing their programming, we discovered that they were given a directive to provide aid to the people of the Commonwealth. However, the robobrains found that the best way to provide that aid, was to kill them and spare them a life of toil and suffering."

Jonathan tossed up a holodisk, with a bit more force than was necessary. The Mechanist managed to grab the storage device and regarded it as one would a poisonous insect for a moment before handing it to his eyebot.

'Sparks' took the offered holodisk and inserted it into a nearby terminal, a screen unfolding and glowing green text began to scroll as the information decompiled.

The Mechanist studied it for a moment, "What? This… it can't be. I… but it's here. The logic, its sound. But… that's not." The man's shoulders visibly slumped and he leaned heavily against the console. A long silence stretched out uncomfortably as the information damned the so-called savior of the Commonwealth with undeniable facts. With sudden violence, he wrested off his helmet and let it drop with a dull thud on the corrugated metal floor, revealing his…. Her face at last. The Mechanist was a woman!

Her voice sounded tiny and uncertain without the helmet's synthesizer, "I wanted to help. My robots were meant to save people, not kill them. Oh god… What have I done?"

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, the witch working hard to keep any hostility out of her tone.

"Isabelle. Isabelle Cruz. I… I just wanted to help. My settlement was always getting attacked by raiders and super mutants. I know computers and robots… I don't do social all that well. I… wanted to use my skills to help protect people. I never…" She broke off, her voice failing her as the enormity of her sin pressed down on her soul.

His voice was tinged with sympathy as the General walked slowly up the ramp, "I know that you meant it for the best. But the fact is, you are responsible for a great deal of suffering. You can either sit here and wallow in self-pity over your mistake, or you can make amends."

She turned her tear streaked cheeks toward him, the tracks slicing channels through the grease that marred her features.

"How can I ever make up for this?" She sobbed, "273. That's how many my robo-brains reported as 'saved'. That's how many people my robots killed. All because of a mistake I made. I would understand it if you killed me. That would probably be best."

Her voice had gotten smaller and smaller as she spoke, until the last that came out as the barest of whispers.

"No. You'll not escape responsibility like that. I am the General of the Minutemen, and under my authority I hereby sentence you to live and serve the Commonwealth. But right now, if you don't mind, how about we stop those robots you have out there right now?"

"Oh my god. Yes! Here, this is the password for the main terminal. Initiate the emergency recall command that will override their programming and force them to return to base."

Jonathan took the holodisk gingerly and strode purposefully into the control room, the slack arms of the robots at their stations unnerving him somewhat as he wriggled his way passed them. Reaching the main terminal, he inserted the holodisk and clicked the recall command when it appeared. Suddenly, power came back on in the facility and the robots all around him immediately resumed their clackety typing.

"Is that it? Is it done?"

"Yes." The woman murmured, "The recall command temporarily halts the production lines and reduced the tracking transceiver power by 58%. We can see their progress here."

The Mechanist quietly led Jon to another console where the screen showed a crude map of the Commonwealth. On it, five icons flashed as they slowly moved toward the Mechanist's lair. As Jon studied it, the five signals suddenly became four.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked.

"Um, I don't know. We just lost contact with one of the groups. It could be a glitch, programming error… it could be anything."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Worst case scenario, is that the robobrain is refusing the recall command for some reason and has gone renegade."

"Shit!" He cursed, turning to Ada, "Ada?"

"Yes sir?"

"Are you and Tesla up for some hunting?"

Tesla provided a few indignant sounded bleeps, Ada turned to him for a moment before responding, "Our systems are fully operational, sir."

Jonathan turned back to the Mechanist, "Do you have any other combat models that can be placed under Ada's command? I'd feel better if my guys had some backup."

Within the hour, Ada and Tesla, along with four other hastily patched up robots courtesy of the Mechanist, Isabelle Cruz, departed the hangar bay to apprehend the renegade forces.

In the meantime, Hermione and Jonathan talked Ms. Cruz into placing herself under the authority of the General, and to put her genius to work helping the Commonwealth under his supervision.

"I'm going to have some of my men come here and garrison this location. We'll establish a provisioning route from one of our other settlements to keep you stocked on materials and supplies. For now, I want you to concentrate on building support robots, Mr, Handy's seem to be really good at farming crops and I know the settlements could use some construction based robots for the heavy lifting. We'll hold off on building any combat models until we've worked out the kinks in the system, and from now on, none of your robots will operate autonomously aside from Sparks there."

The eyebot beeped brightly, as if in appreciation of the acknowledgement.

"I will get to work right away. I.. want to thank you for this second chance. I won't let you down." Isabelle replied, meekly.

"Hermione? Would Salem even want robots there? I know you guys have your own way of doing things."

"True, but there are so few of us, I don't think Harry would really turn down that sort of help. We'll talk to him once we get back, but I don't see him refusing."

"I hope not, it will go toward repaying the massive debt we owe to you and yours."

Hermione cocked her eyebrow at him for a moment, before a smile split her face, "There are no debts between friends."

* * *

A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, I want to apologize for how long it has taken to get this chapter out. Seems my inspiration and motivation to write has flagged somewhat as of late, partially due to how busy I had become with family, work and school. I do have the outlines for the next two chapters done, so hopefully I can get those chapters knocked out faster than this one. Unfortunately, I have neglected my other fic for far too long and need to focus some of my efforts there. That will delay updates for this story for at least a month as I work on wrapping up the Fall of Phaeton. Stick with me folks, I will keep updating this story. Thanks for reading and as always, I welcome reviews, even that last one that seemed more of a flame than an actual review. (Though constructive criticism works better, IMHO)


	12. Chapter 11:Dear Hearts and Gentle People

**Chapter 11: Dear Hearts and Gentle People – Bob Crosby**

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

A heavy miasma of pain pressed down on him as he fought against the enveloping darkness. His tongue felt thick with thirst and every movement, no matter how slight, seemed to sap him of what little energy he had. A brilliant blast of indistinct gray light seared his eyes and made him mewl in agony, his one free hand questing for some nepenthe from the ill feeling. Warm fingers found his and strangely enough, seemed to assuage the discomfort by relaxing his angry nerves.

"Wha…" the words caught in his throat, choked behind the thick phlegm clogging his mouth.

"Here." Strong hands grasped him and helped him sit up, the agonizing blaze of light dimming as his eyes adjusted. Still, the room was blurry and his head swam from the movement. A cool glass was pressed to his lips and he grasped at it with desperation, greedily drinking the cold water. It ran in rivulets down his throat, soaking his shirt and pooling in his lap. He didn't care, it was the water of life pouring into the desert of his flesh, granting its powers to invigorate and replenish. He coughed and spluttered, and a pair of hands appeared to take the glass and stroked his back to ease his distemper.

Blinking his eyes against the continued blurriness, he cast about with his hands, searching for his glasses. The foreign hands guided his to the metal frames and helped him perch them in place over his eyes. The room finally resolved into the Salem clinic, and he found that he was sitting up in one of the beds next to his sweet Daphne. Doctor Anderson leaned back as he blinked the world back into focus and worked his mouth, reveling in the moisture soothing his parched mouth.

"What happened?" Harry whispered, his throat still raspy so that the words came out in a ragged croak.

"You and Ms. Greengrass were brought in suffering from one of the most extreme cases of radiation poisoning I had ever seen. Honestly, you should be dead right now."

Harry blanched at the almost rancorous pronouncement from the older woman. Doc Anderson was never one to mince words, but she seemed almost angry at the seemingly reckless way Harry and the others constantly did things that required her care afterward.

Her expression softened and she laid a hand on his leg, "You've been asleep for four days now. I had to chemically induce a comatose state and put you on dialysis. Even with Radaway to flush out the radiation, your cells suffered damage… especially your kidneys. Thankfully, there are people in Salem with your blood type. I've gone through twelve units of blood on you alone."

"Cell damage? Is that going to be a problem?"

Harry turned at the nervous question from Daphne and reached out to grasp her hand. Her fingers somehow felt cool and more fragile than he remembered. He worried that he was pushing too hard and that he was dragging her along with him to her detriment. As if reading his thoughts, she turned to him and offered a small smile, shaking her head at the dour look on his face.

"No." Doc Anderson breathed, "Susan happens to have a talent for healing… I've never seen anything like it. She did what she could to reverse the damage, though it seemed to take a lot out of her to do it. She was laid up in here for a full day after she performed her magic on you two."

"Then I owe you both thanks." Harry announced, his tone carrying a small measure of the sincerity he felt.

"You can thank me by stop trying to kill yourself." Doc growled, though her temper seemed defeated by Harry's grin.

Harry knew that the woman cared for them all, and that a large portion of her ire was fueled by her mental and emotional exhaustion as she worked over them both.

The door to the clinic opened on creaking hinges and a grey haired head peered in at them, "Is that Mr. Potter I hear?"

Harry's smile broadened, "Good to see you Barney."

The commander of the Salem Militia let himself in and sat heavily at the foot of Harry's bed, the wave of relief washing over him evident in his beaming expression.

Regarding Harry intently, as if confirming to himself that his friend was truly on the mend, he absently patted Doc Anderson, not even noticing her furious blush as his hands bounced against her backside.

Noticing her expression, Barney looked up and noted that he was goosing the doctor and yanked his hand back as if burned, his face going crimson as he spluttered.

Harry coughed pointedly to save Barney further embarrassment, "Tell me what happened at the quarry."

Barney shot Harry and grateful look and Doc Anderson an apologetic one. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"By the time we got back, the quarry was well on its way to collapsing in on itself. We were rushing to get people clear when someone spotted you and Ms. Daphne here popping up right by the entrance. A couple of our boys managed to reach you and carry you out before the entire place fell apart. There's still plenty of useable stone though and your friend… Sir Nicholas was able to confirm that those chiggies."

"Chindi." Harry corrected.

"Whatever… the 'things' were well and truly gone. We got Adam and Lilith taken care of, some minor wounds that Doc here took care of in no time. Our other patrols took out a group of super mutants, a raider gang heading for coastal cottage and some ferals camped out at Croup Manor. We now have several miles of cleared real estate all around Salem."

Barney nodded at Harry with real pride, obviously crediting the wizard's leadership for their series of resounding victories.

"Thanks Barney, please tell everyone that they all did brilliantly. Very well done."

Barney nodded gratefully at the praise and rose, mindful that Harry and Daphne still needed their rest.

"There are others who are wanting to check in on you now that you're awake. I'll pass on what you said, I know the boys and girls will be glad to hear it. I left detachments of militia at each of the sites… the Minutemen offered to leave some sentries too, but I turned them down. I appreciate their help and they're a good group of fellows, but this is Salem business. I hope I didn't overstep."

"No, no, I agree with you. It's great to have them as friends, but we shouldn't come to rely overmuch on them."

Barney grinned at Harry's agreement and turned to leave, pausing long enough to pinch Doc Anderson's bottom before hurrying through the door before she could wallop him.

"That man…" a blushing Doc fumed, though even Harry could tell that it was mostly bluster.

Not five minutes went by before another head popped in, this one topped with an unruly mop of red hair.

"Harry! Daphne! You ARE awake!" George shouted exuberantly. He was followed in by a much more subdued, but no less pleased Lilith.

He sat on Harry's bed while Lilith perched on Daphne's, both unable to contain their relief at seeing them well.

"Susan and Doc here really pulled out all the stops, Harry. They worked day and night to get you two well."

"I know, seems I'm always needing someone to yank my bum from the fire." Harry quipped.

George laughed, "With you two looking all spry again… sort of, it's official. Resounding win for team Salem!"

"No one else got hurt?" Daphne asked.

"Nothing serious, "Lilith replied, "Aside from you two, Adam and I were the worst off, and we were mended much faster than you."

"How are you doing Lilith?"

Lilith waved away their concern, "Oh it hurt. I won't deny that. But it turned out to not be as bad as all that."

"Oh…" Harry paused, "I'm sorry about your… um, vault boy, George."

The redhead's eyes lost some of their luster as he looked down at his lap, nodding sadly at Harry's condolences.

"Speaking of… he made it too!" He shouted, his head popping up at the same time as the aforementioned vault boy suddenly popped into the room with a macabre giggle.

Harry scooted backward in his bed in alarm, raising his hand to his suddenly racing heart.

"George, I swear if you ever let that thing near me again, I'll…"

George laughed even louder, if that were possible, he waved away Harry's threat with one hand while wiping the tears in his eyes with the other.

"No worries, I'm taking him back to the workshop. He's going to stay there and help us around the shop."

George was still giggling to himself as he picked up his companion and made for the door. They could hear him renew his laughter as he walked down the hall and out the main door.

"Well I for one am relieved that the operation was a success. I want very much to have things get to some kind of normal so I can concentrate on my students." Lilith huffed as soon as George's laughter died off.

Harry offered a weak smile, "Me too, Lilith. As much as I would love to devote our time to rebuilding what was lost, there are threats out there that, if ignored, could very well toss all of our plans."

Lilith patted the air consolingly, "I know, I know. I'm just not made out for this like you are Harry."

"If it makes you feel any better, we are much safer now than we were a few days ago. Now we can make the time to work and make the most of our success. Hopefully give Salem and her people some peace for a change."

"We're all appreciative of the work you've done Harry. We never would have made it without you."

Clearing his throat in embarrassment, Harry tried to change the subject, "How are your students coming along?"

More than happy to talk about a subject she was keenly invested in, Lilith brightened and excitedly told Harry and Daphne about her 'school'.

"Neville's been helping me when he isn't busy with the crops and his herbology studies. We have four students now and are using the main chapel in the church as a classroom. We don't have wands enough to do any more than have them share as they practice. Thankfully, there are a pair of very mellow wands and seems to take to be used as an instructional aid… still, without wands to give them, they'll never advance very far. To say nothing of our lack of books and other materials."

"We had hoped that the Museum of Witchcraft would have some hidden cache." Daphne put in, "Luna and I explored it a while ago and all we found was an irate deathclaw."

"WHAT?!" Harry nearly launched himself from his bed at the news that his Daphne had faced a deathclaw without him, "When did this happen?"

"A couple of weeks ago, you were off flying and contrary to your opinion, you don't have to do EVERYTHING." Daphne stated flatly, her expression daring Harry to make a fuss of it.

Only mildly rebuffed, Harry continued, "Ok, what happened with it?"

"Oh, it massacred a group of Gunners. Apparently, they had stolen its eggs and tried to escape mum's wrath by hiding out in the museum. We retrieved its one remaining egg for it and it went on its way. Luna seems to have a knack for communicating with creatures, without her, I may have had to hurt it."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, "At least you're both alright. Plus it does take one place off our list of places to search."

"Too bad it didn't have anything useful." Daphne lamented.

"We'll figure out something." Harry put in, including Lilith in the statement with a meaningful look, "We always do."

* * *

 **POV: Susan Bones**

It had only been a few hours after Harry and Daphne finally woke up that Susan led a small group of Salem militia and five families north toward the Coastal Cottage. The settlers and their escort were quiet, which suited her just fine as she reminisced about the last time she had gone to the forlorn house on the low cliff.

Vincent had been with her then, ostensibly as her protector but more as her friend, though the hope ever shined in his eyes that they could have been more. Her heart leapt up into her throat at the thought, of the wasted moments between then and when he died.

She turned up the dirt path without thinking, passing between the two freshly painted brown Mr. Handy robots provided by the reformed Mechanist. They had been hard at work moving what material they could from the fish packing plant to the cottage and had also cleared away some of the rubble. They had been programmed to cease their work when she arrived and to await further instructions. Not in the mood to talk, partly for fear that if she opened her mouth, then the keening heartbreak lingering in her throat would leap up and free, tearing her soul out with it. She motioned down the path, to the waiting settlers, silently thankful that the robots acknowledged her orders and moved gracefully to join the group.

She closed her eyes as she drew her wand from her sleeve sheath and breathed deeply of the salty air, the sharp tangy scent of the ocean tickling her sinuses. Her mind conjured an image of a smiling Vincent, leaning against a restored cottage… only larger, with a plethora of rooms for the multiple families calling the place home. The sun was setting behind him, outlining his figure in golden rays as he strolled toward her, his face cast in shadow.

His warmth enveloped her as she laughed… an ephemeral sound, as if it came from far away in some long lost dream. A breeze carried more of the ocean scent and tousled the fat heads of razorgrain fields, the golden ripples spreading out behind the house like waves. He picked her up and spun her about, the house flashing by her vision and the cold steel gate set into the concrete wall spinning past. The colors seem to run together and her delight was replaced by a deeply nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pushed against his chest, working her mouth to ask him to stop. Her vision went black as she felt her body slam into unyielding cold ground.

"Ms. Bones? Are you alright?"

She blinked her eyes several times and was greeted by twinkling starlight, and the concerned faces of several of the settlers gathered around her. The owner of the voice, a severe looking older woman, helped her to sit up.

"Thank you, yes… I'm alright. Just got a little dizzy."

As her vision returned in full, she couldn't help but feel the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth at the sight before her. The expansive cottage from her vision dominated her field of view, complete with a wrap-around deck and porch swings. It was large yet homey, the completed house big enough to more than accommodate the five families that had accompanied her here. She must have constructed it subconsciously as she dreamt of Vincent, but had poured too much of herself in the magic… which explained why she felt so weak now.

She stood up with assistance on shaky legs, and noticed that the gate and wall were completed as well.

"I've never seen anything like this!" The woman exclaimed, "And I've lived in Salem around you wonderful people for months!"

Contrary to her appearance, the woman was anything but taciturn… she just had the misfortune to have a kindly soul wrapped up in a distinctly haughty looking exterior… what had Vincent called it? Resting bitch face or something like that. A small giggle escaped her lips at that, causing the others to look at her with renewed concern.

She waved away their worries, "Sorry, I was remembering something Vincent told me once."

They hardly looked mollified by that, "Truly! Let's get settled into the house before it gets cold out. Sergeant?" She added, looking to the senior militia man.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Please set up the guard rotation. We'll work on installing the turrets tomorrow, but for now… I need to rest for a bit."

"No problem ma'am. You get some sleep, the boys and I got it from here."

She nodded vaguely as she turned away, the man hollering for his men and moving toward the steel gate.

She walked slowly up the gate, smiling at a trio of small children who tripped on each other as they happily screamed up the wooden steps to the house. The wooden boards creaked slightly as she settled her weight onto the bottom step, her hand feeling the grain of the rail, the smooth wood tingling with residual warmth from her magic. She sat down on a swing and imagined sitting next to Vincent, his strong arm draped over her shoulder as they swung on a lazy evening. She leaned into him and breathed deeply of his scent, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

"Welcome to Vincentville." She murmured, as the gray haze of sleep overtook her, oblivious to the quilt the older woman draped over her.

* * *

 **POV: George**

"Whew. Those buggers smell awful!" George complained as a pair of militia struggled under the weight of a rather large ghoul corpse.

They heaved the smelly body of the unfortunate soul through the front door of Croup Manor, while George and Mr. Williams wisely stayed back out of the way.

"Why don't you wave that stick of yours and make it easier on the rest of us instead of standing there bitching?" Fingers growled, a collection of ghoul body parts balanced precariously beneath her arm. Her rebuke lost none of its sting despite the muffling effect from the skull bandana she had wrapped around her mouth and nose to ward against the smell.

To further punctuate the point, she dropped her macabre load at his feet, his face twisting with incredulous disgust at the wet slapping sounds the organs made as they plopped on the pavement.

Fingers pulled her bandanna down and grimaced at the pair, "Neville wouldn't complain if he were here."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to make do with us, love!" George flippantly called out, even as she turned her back on the pair to head back into the Manor.

"She's not wrong though, can't you wave your thingie and get rid of these bodies?" Mr. William whispered, careful lest Fingers hear him actually agreeing with her. The former raider enjoyed nothing more than to be proven right… she once regaled them for three days after she won an argument about the merits of using wonderglue to baste mole rat meat.

"It's a wand." George grumbled, knowing that he really should have done something more than stand there and make snide comments.

George moved over to the large fountain in front of the manor and huddled down as if seeking shelter.

"What are you doing?" Mr. William asked, walking over to stand over the wickedly grinning wizard.

"You'll see… though you probably want to get down here with me."

Rolling his eyes dramatically, the old engineer eased himself down, grumbling about his cracking joints.

"Accio, ghoul!" George shouted, jabbing his wand up toward the top of the fountain. He huddled down immediately and Mr. William followed suit, suddenly quite nervous at the nearly maniacal look in the redhead's eyes.

His first clue that George's work was having the intended effect, was the sudden raucous cries that emanated from the house, followed by a series of loud thuds and even louder cursing. He felt something dribble onto his ear and wiped it off with a hand, examining it with curious eyes.

Curiosity turned to revulsion as he realized that he had some kind of orange ichor dripping from his fingers. Looking up at a sudden series of wet impacts, he was astonished and a little nauseated at what appeared to be a veritable storms of ghoul remains spattering against the far side of the fountain, some of the fluid and viscera splashing up and over onto him.

Huddling down as low as he could, he directed a glare at George, "You do know that Fingers is likely to kill you for this."

"To see the look on her face before I go, will make it all worthwhile." George laughed.

George proved to be quite wrong on that, as Fingers and both militiamen, all three spattered from head to toe with ghoul guts, chased him for miles until he got the presence of mind to 'accio' a broom and fly out of their reach.

It was several hours, multiple pleas and apologies later, that George and company finally got back to their task of securing Croup Manor. It helped smooth things over somewhat when George conjured a warm shower for the three people he had accidentally (on purpose) hosed with gore and dried their clothes with a simple charm his mother taught him. Using it made him think of her, and for a moment, his seemingly inexhaustible supply of good cheer was waylaid by the specter of all that was lost.

"The families are coming in the morning. Now that we've wasted most of the afternoon on your antics, can we get on with making this place ready for them?" Mr. William offered, his grandfatherly chide having the intended effect and making the others rather sheepish about their behavior.

Clearing her throat, Fingers tried to abolish the uneasiness, "Well, I think it'd be best to wipe the slate clean." She waved her hand idly at the morose looking manor.

"What? Why? This house looks to be in pretty good shape, all things considered." George protested.

Seemingly in reaction to his pronouncement, an entire section of wall collapsed with a dull roar, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"It's just one wall." George protested, not liking the smug look on Finger's face.

"How about a compromise?" Mr. William cut in with practiced ease, used to being the voice of reason where George was concerned.

"What do you have in mind?" George asked, eager to look somewhere other than at the woman's face.

Walter stood and gestured expansively out toward the other houses, "Use the material from those houses to reinforce and expand Croup Manor. Simply restoring this place won't do as there are at least seven families coming in the morning. But adding in material from the other homes over there, we can build a pretty impressive structure that will more than house everyone coming and leave room for growth."

Looking around at their thoughtful faces, George nodded in agreement as he noted the others doing likewise.

"Well, sounds like that's our plan then. If you guys could cover me while I get to work, we can have this building up before it gets too late."

Having Fingers and the militiamen along proved a boon as the other houses, the bulk of them boarded up, seemed to be infested with an inordinate number of radroaches. One of them even had a trio of child sized feral ghouls… a fact that they all silently decided it best not to dwell on.

Slowed a little by the nearly constant sound of combat, George was exhausted by the time the main house was completed. The restored building was resplendent, looking like a manor house of old from a picture he had seen of the plantation homes of the south. It boasted dozens of rooms and straddled the entire outcropping up to the beach. Though it took every nail and plank of the other houses surrounding it, the benefit was that the land all around was now clear and ready for cultivation, with the old foundations pulled up to provide Croup manor with a thick and strong concrete wall.

"Good job, George!" Walter called out, joining George at the fountain that moistened them with pure spray now that the wizard had repaired it.

George smiled his appreciation, too tired to make any quips at the late hour. Clapping him on the back, Walter led George into the house.

"We're in luck… Finger's is making radroach stew." The older man announced eagerly, his hand rubbing his stomach as he guided a suddenly hesitant George.

Weasely felt himself go a little green at the idea of eating giant roaches, but was compelled into motion by Mr. William's insistent hand.

"It's alright, have you ever known Fingers to cook anything that wasn't delicious?"

"As a matter of fact." George alluded, remembering her revenge weeks ago, when living gnats burst up out of the meat pie he had been served.

"Don't worry, it's a stew… she's not going to ruin our dinner just to get back at you." Walter winked at him, "That'll come later!"

George wasn't in the least bit comforted by that.

* * *

 **POV: Neville**

He whistled happily as he ran his fingers through the gently waving stalks of corn. He was pleased at how well they were doing in his first field adjacent to the Town Hall. Or church… as it was before they had moved in and decided that the central building would be re-purposed. He inspected the rows of thriving plants, careful to note any indications at how the plants were faring in the radiation free soil.

He smiled as he knelt and dug his hands into the loamy dark earth, reveling in the feel of the slightly moist dirt. The glowing shrooms were doing their job very well, a line of them like sentries growing in the shadow of the town center. They thrived in radiation, and pulled the radioactive material directly from the soil. Soon, he would harvest these shrooms and prepare them for storage in his growing herbology lab. Coupled with simple charms to invigorate crops, the small fields around Salem were all doing remarkably well.

Neville had gathered a multitude of plants and fungi, experimenting on them to determine how well they could serve as an analog to the varieties that had existed prior to the war. Unfortunately, it seemed that a great many fairly common ingredients for potions or other alchemical solutions had no substitute… at least that he could so far. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees and peeked in through a window at Lilith, who was holding a class.

An old blackboard stood to her left while she directed one of their students, an older teenager named Clarissa, though the motions of a simpe leviosa charm. The others, a group of 4 children ranging from seven to twelve, sat in desks that had been scavenged from Malden middle school. Jonathan, the Minuteman General, had directed him to that location… though the way his face went blank as he told Neville about it indicated to the wizard that there was more to that place, at least to the General, than a simple place to gather simple school supplies.

He grinned at the look of wonder in Clarissa's eyes as she made the feather duster rise in the air to her command. He noted that the young witch had a sure hand with the wand. She gave the wand back and nearly bounced on her way back to her seat, another student rising to take her place. They only had two spare wands with which to teach the children, the other few spares that they had being remarkably recalcitrant to be used by pretty much anyone. Neville surmised that these two were made from dragon heartstring, as they allowed themselves to be passed to each student with little argument.

Neville picked up his tools and headed back for the gate, stopping to activate his new Mr. Handy from its recharge station.

"Good morning, sir!" The robot greeted him happily.

"Good morning, Frederick."

"Would you like me to get to work on the garden today, sir?"

"Please. The glowing mushrooms are nearly ready to harvest, so keep an eye on them if you would for me. Otherwise tend the corn field the rest of the day."

"Of course, Sir! Happy to be of service."

Neville whistled a jaunty tune as he walked away from the Mr. Handy and toward his own workshop. He was the only herbologist in the settlement… perhaps in the world, come to think of it… and so had the space to himself. He was a tidy man and his workshop reflected that aspect of his personality. Every jar, packet, vial and box was clearly labelled and stored alphabetically.

He checked his stock of crop seeds and was a little dismayed at how depleted his stores were. He had endeavored to save enough seed to replant in order to increase the crop yields for each season, but the population had grown beyond his projections. He had already packaged up seedlings for the families moving north to Coastal cottage, but it appeared that he wouldn't have enough for Croup Manor, to say nothing of Kingston lighthouse.

He sighed and raked a hand through his lengthening dark brown hair, realizing belatedly that there was still chaff and dirt in his hands and now… in his hair.

A little over thirty people left yesterday morning with Susan and another forty were set to leave with Luna tomorrow morning. That left Salem with a little over two hundred men, women, and children. And it fell on his shoulders to feed them all.

He would have to talk to the trade caravans again to get more seed crop from Abernathy or Sanctuary. Though those settlements were more than happy to give him anything he asked for, he felt a little remiss in continuing to rely on their generosity. No, he needed to find something to make the trade equitable. Maybe Harry would have an idea?

Neville sighed again, closing his eyes against the ever increasing pounding headache he was developing.

He had wanted to visit Greygarden, which was nominally considered a settlement but was in reality an experiment of sorts for its original creator. He would be pleased to know that his work lived on, that the robots who inhabited the settlement continued to work and to thrive despite conditions in the wasteland. He had considered asking Fingers to accompany him, he could make it seem that he needed a guide and protection and not because he fancied her. He blushed furiously at the thought, she was wild, uncouth, and wholly the opposite of gentle Neville Longbottom. Try as he might, he could not seem to convince himself to look elsewhere, despite their differences. He found her absolutely captivating.

"Neville!"

His heart leapt up into his throat as he stumbled and knocked half of his tools from his bench. His mouth worked like a fish out of water as he tried to recover, absolutely certain that his thoughts on the former raider were writ plain on his face.

Harry stood in the doorway of his workshop, looking much more hale and hearty than he had in the first few days since they brought him back from Dunwich. Harry grinned at him, and Neville couldn't say he blamed him… he must look a fool.

"I was calling out to you, but you seemed pretty involved with whatever… or whoever, you were thinking about." Harry teased, having guessed from the wistful smile on Neville's face as he approached, what the wizard was thinking about.

"Sorry, Harry. Actually yes, I was thinking about how low my seed stock was. We'll need more for the group at Croup Manor and then more again for the Kingston Lighthouse. I can ask a couple of other settlements for it, but I'd rather make an even trade… I just don't know what."

"Breathe, Neville." Harry spoke calmly, coming in at last to place a friendly hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. As a matter of fact, Preston has asked for more turrets for a place called Oberland. It's a newly liberated settlement just over a bridge from Greygarden. I'm sure that we can get the crops we need in exchange for the turrets."

"Oh! Thanks Harry! That's perfect. I've been wanting to go to Greygarden… do you, uh think Fingers will be back by then? I can ask her to escort me and the caravan to Oberland."

"Oh you want to deliver it yourself? And take Fingers with you?" Harry asked suggestively.

"Well, you know. It's safer and…" Neville stammered.

"Sorry, yeah. It's a good plan Neville. Go ahead. Fingers is still at Croup with George and Walter, but they are supposed to come back tomorrow morning. You can ask her then."

Neville blushed again as his mouth started to twitch uncontrollably into a wide smile. He began rummaging through his things, talking out loud about the things he would need to take. He turned to ask Harry about something, but found that the other wizard used his distraction to escape.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

He breathed deeply in relief at not being dragged into what may have turned into hours of watching Neville debate with himself. He was very fond of the man, but he had the tendency to drag on and on about the most boring of subjects… plants in particular. He shook his head as he walked, trying to imagine the fiery raider, Fingers and Neville Longbottom as a couple. Sipping on tea and chatting about the weather. Something about the scene, ok, everything about that scene seemed utterly ridiculous to Harry and nothing could have stopped the sudden laughter that sprang from him.

That was unfair of him, Neville was a courageous wizard, proven in the fight against Voldemort. He was the first to stand by him even when everyone thought he was dead. Harry resolved then to help Neville as much as he could. Maybe he could talk Daphne about warming Fingers up to Neville? She did love to cook, word of her baking inevitably brought everyone in town to the diner to sample her latest triumph. That woman could make dirt taste good.

Harry smiled and waved at the other settlers as they went about their business. Salem was an industrious settlement, with a safe and contented people going on about their day and working to make the town a better place. Children played in the streets without fear of raiders or mutated creatures suddenly sweeping up from the wastelands to devour them. People went to bed with full stomachs, and woke up full of hope for the new day.

He felt better than he had in days, finally recovered from his time spent having his blood filtered of the enormous radiation he and Daphne had absorbed.

Daphne had wanted to explore the lighthouse, and more specifically, had wanted to do it without him. He remembered the alarm that had spiked through him when she had said that, and the embarrassment that followed when she assured him that she merely wanted to go and take a look around without the great Harry Potter constantly trying to protect her from every little thing. He had to accept that she was a grown woman and a powerful witch, with nothing of the despair that had so clouded her on their journey across the Atlantic.

He knew that she was doing this as much for him as for her, perhaps hinting that he could use some time alone… to get something… for a special someone's birthday.

He didn't know much about how to find something rare in the Commonwealth, but he knew someone who specialized in that: Nick Valentine. The last owl he had received indicated that he was still in Sunshine helping Luna and Soleil there with some Gunner trouble. It was a lovely day, why not fly out there and see how they're getting on?

Happy to have a plan, Harry walked briskly back to his apartment to retrieve his broom, eager as ever to go flying.

* * *

 _A few minutes later_

Harry shouted into the wind, exultant in the sensation that flying always seemed to evoke in him. He spun a tight loop around Zimonja Tower, the Minuteman stationed atop it offering him a wave as he swooped past.

Seconds later, he was flying low through Tenpines, his daring nature compelling him to pit himself against the obstacles presented by the copious trees surrounding the settlement. A brahmin lowed in alarm and broke free from its pen, causing its caretaker to shout and shake his fist up at him as he swerved and dived.

Harry made a face and could offer only an exaggerated shrug for an apology before he zoomed off, not eager to test the farmer's patience by lingering.

He wove back and forth atop the trees tops and around the massive satellite dish marking the old listening post, his laughter echoing back from the concave disc.

Picking up speed, his course took him over the Red Rocket station, the modified structure looking only marginally like its original, pre-war configuration. He grinned as he thought he saw Hermione, her light brown hair whipping in the wind his passage was creating.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

"Was that Harry?" Jonathan asked a somewhat flustered Hermione.

"Was your first clue the man flying like a lunatic or the boyish whooping?" Hermione retorted.

"Actually it was the look of exasperation on your face." He quipped with a grin.

Hermione shook her head at the not-untrue observation and settled herself onto his lap. He had recently completed a deck which wrapped around their flat atop Red Rocket. The wonderfully stained and polished wood porch afforded them a nice view of the small lake just past the lightly wooded hills between them and the settlement of Sanctuary.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Jonathan's neck and wondered what the view would be like at sunset, with the dying rays of sunlight shining golden along the wave crests.

Thinking of it reminded her of the ocean view from her window in Salem, and made her suddenly miss being home.

"I'd like to go home." She murmured, almost to herself.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow quizzically, "You mean Salem? Do you not like it here?"

She chewed her lip in thought, "I love it here… but only because this is where you are. I miss Salem and my friends though, I wonder how they're getting on."

"'Where we love is home – home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.' Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr." Jonathan quoted.

Hermione smiled, relieved and reminded at how he understood her so well.

"Who was that?" She asked.

"He was a poet from Boston. Long before the Great War. He was part of a group called the Fireside Poets. I came across a small journal in a museum once. I think I still have it around here somewhere…"

"You quoted him, so you're alright with us going to Salem?" Hermione wanted to be absolutely sure.

Jonathan's heart swelled to hear her say it like that, as if the question referred to the both of them making the journey. It told him that she considered them an inseparable pair, and would leave only with him or under great duress.

"This is just a place." He indicated the fortress-home with a sweep of his hand, "The only thing holding me here is you."

She beamed at him then, and planted a soft, chaste kiss lightly on his lips.

"Well, aside from it being where I stash all my best armor, my bobblehead collection, my library, my power armor sets, my soda collection…"

She growled in mock indignation and slapped his chest lightly, though she may as well have hit a steel wall for how dense his muscles were.

"I guess I can bear being parted from all my cool stuff for a while." He teased.

"The day is young, why not start now?" Hermione hopped up, suddenly excited at the thought of seeing Lilith, Luna and the others again. Talking through a mirror just wasn't the same as being with her beloved friends.

Jonathan laughed at her exuberance, "Yes, my love. Let me talk to Preston first. He'd have a conniption if I took off without telling him. Though I swear, if he tells me he got 'word from another settlement' one more time, I'm going to wonderglue his mouth shut."

An hour later, Hermione had already stuffed her few belongings into a backpack that Jonathan had traded for. He had even dyed it red and affixed a Nuka Cola patch to it. She could hear him talking with Preston in his workshop, so she pulled the strap over her shoulder and walked down to the old converted garage.

"Greygarden and Oberland are doing well, we got word that Salem needed more crops and are not only willing to trade more turrets for them, but Mr. Longbottom wants to make the delivery himself." She heard Preston report.

"Must be in a hurry. They did get that little population boom from the Vault and as word of how safe it is there spreads, more people are going to try and immigrate there." Jonathan mused aloud.

Hermione walked in and it seemed as though the room lit up from the smile that blossomed on Jonathan's face. Somehow, just the look on his face when he saw her made her feel like the most cherished person in the world.

He indicated a dark blue backpack, letting her know that he had packed as well. He turned back to Preston, "Anything else before we go?"

"Per your orders, we've been pulling the Minutemen stationed at the other settlements back as they become more established and ready to accept responsibility for their own defense. All of them agreed to a single full-timer to stay on to liaise with their defense and to be able to call on us if needed. It's getting a little crowded at Sanctuary though… now, if we were to retake the castle…"

Jonathan breathed heavily through his nose, very familiar with Preston's earnest desire to retake the Minutemen's traditional headquarters.

"Once we have in place an effective means to supply the Castle in place, we will take it back, Preston."

Preston too, was familiar with the interplay whenever this topic was brought up. He was satisfied though, as the General had never made a promise he hadn't kept. Besides, the Minutemen had come back from the brink of annihilation to become a stronger force than it was under Colonel Hollis. He was confident that another Quincy would not happen again.

"We got word from another settlement..." Preston began.

"Preston, I swear to Zeus, if you tell me another settlement needs help…"

"No, no!" Preston backpedaled hastily, spreading his hands in surrender, "Not this time, I promise."

Jonathan eyed him warily, "Okay. Let's hear it."

"This settlement is called the Slog. It's a community of ghouls that had been driven out of Diamond City. They are doing pretty well for themselves and are friendly to us and to traders. Anyway, they wanted to pass word along that they've been seeing increased Super Mutant and Forged activity lately. They think it might have something to do with rumors of Gunner reinforcements at Hub City Auto Wreckers. It's putting more pressure on the Forged and the Super Mutants, and that in turns makes the area a 'pot fit to boil'."

"Pot fit to boil?" Hermione asked.

"Their words, not mine." Preston replied, looking slightly embarrassed, "Anyway, I just thought you should know, since you are heading up that way."

"Alright Preston, thanks. Can you go ahead and ask Blake to get a crop shipment put together for Salem? Have the provisioner leave from here and we can meet them at the Slog and continue on together from there."

"So, you going to stop and talk to them?" At Jonathan's nod, he continued, "Talk to Wiseman. He's their founder and would know what's going on."

They shook hands in farewell and moments later, Hermione and Jonathan were strolling east through Concord on their way to Salem, an eager Dogmeat frolicking around them.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

He guided the broom with his legs as he leaned back and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of the wind in his face. This broom was nowhere near as fast as his beloved Firebolt, but as the American's say, beggars can't be choosers. He had flown over Abernathy farms and marveled at the extensive fields of mutfruit, corn, razorgrain and tatos. He imagined that this one settlement produced enough food to feed the entire Northwest Commonwealth.

He flew low over the lake and dipped his fingers in the water, the cool spray misting on his clothes and face. He mentally reminded himself that he'd need to wash it off later… he wasn't eager to relive the pleasure of being heavily irradiated again.

Soon, pristine white walls of fresh concrete soared up into his view, the new defenses shining in the late morning sun. Sunshine, another farming community that produced a large amount of food relative to its size.

As he flew up over the walls and waved a greeting to the sentries, he was struck at how industrious the people were. Especially along the southern wall, where it appeared some damage from a battle had occurred.

"Harry!" Luna greeted him as he landed at the base of the damaged wall.

"Luna! It's good to see you." Harry replied with a smile.

Harry stumbled under the force of a hearty back slap, as the tall Amazonian warrior woman, Soleil, greeted him in her own way.

"Well, if it isn't the elusive Harry Potter." A very noir voice chimed in. Coming out of the shadows nearby, his face lit by the glowing cherry of his ever present cigarette, Nick Valentine nodded at Harry.

"It's good to see you." Harry repeated, "All of you."

"You missed the party here though." Nick commented lightly, smirking a little to show that he meant no ill will.

"Though I suppose you had business of your own." He added after another puff.

"Yeah. We had a little joint venture with the Minutemen, wiped out a cult of raiders hanging out right on our doorstep and a few other menaces besides. I'm glad that you pulled through alright. What happened here anyway? Those Gunners you were telling me about in your letter?"

"Not quite. Those Gunners took over a raider hideout to the south of here, an old federal stockpile. Drove the former residents to desperation to attack a fully-fledged settlement like this one. Showed 'em what a mistake that was." Nick supplied meaningfully.

"So the Gunners are still there?"

Luna exchanged a pensive look with the others before fixing Harry in the most serious expression he had ever seen on the whimsical witch's face.

"No… Susan." Luna stammered a bit.

"Susan what?" Harry prompted.

"She killed them all." Soleil put in, never having been one to mince words.

Harry wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly. It sounded like she was saying that Susan had killed a troop of Gunners… surely not Susan. Sweet, kind and most of all, gentle, Susan.

"It's true. That dame disappeared just before the battle and came back covered in Gunner blood. There's something broken in that one, Mr. Potter."

Harry's astonishment was paralyzing, his mind just seemed to refuse the two very disparate images of who he knew Susan to be.

"You remember how hard she took Vincent's death." Soleil provided, as if sensing Harry's internal crisis.

"Apparently she took it harder than I thought." Harry shook his head, Susan was helping some settlers get started at Salem's first satellite settlement, Coastal Cottage. He felt that he needed to spend some time with her, but it seemed that fate was conspiring against him being there for a friend in need.

"So the raiders attacked here? Was anyone hurt?"

"We took fairly light casualties, all things considered." Another voice added. Harry turned and found that the voice belonged to an attractive woman of middling years whose age had added some weight to her curves.

"Harry, this is Ester Robinson, Mayor of Sunshine." Nick introduced.

"Pleased to meet you." Harry said with a smile, taking her offered hand and keeping a straight face despite her crushing grip.

"The men can handle the rest of the repairs, why don't we take this inside? It's about time for tea isn't it?" Ester offered.

Harry then realized that he hadn't eaten anything yet today and heartily agreed to anything that resembled tea.

Harry settled into the offered seat in Ester's Mayoral residence and office, in reality, just one of the former cabins that had been refurbished for her exclusive use. A soft pink curtain provided a screen which separated her 'bedroom' from her office, which was little more than a few comfortable chairs spread around a low table that she used as a desk.

He was more than pleased when a young woman came in bearing a tray heaped with what appeared to be some kind of biscuit and a teapot. The biscuits were oblong and were a curious orange color. He picked one up and took an experimental bite, the crunchy exterior giving way to a softer inside that tasted faintly of pumpkin. It was mildly sweet and had a pleasant and subtle spice scent.

"These are quite good." Harry mumbled around another mouthful, as he eagerly took another biscuit.

Ester smiled at him over the teapot as she poured them all a cup, "Thank you. My own recipe. We use the gourds that we grow here to make a variety of things, biscuits is really the least of them."

"How do you sweeten it?" Harry asked.

"Ah ah! That's a secret!" Ester chided him, though clearly pleased that he was enjoying them.

Harry moaned in appreciation as he sipped the tea. Though he liked it sweeter, given the lack of tea in the Commonwealth, to have any at all was a delight.

They made small talk for a time, as they all enjoyed the tea until Nick, clearly anxious to talk to Harry, cleared his throat noisily.

"Sorry, Nick. You were going to tell me how the investigation with the missing girl is going." Harry apologized.

"You never said anything about being on a case, Nick!" Ester cut in, scandalized.

Nick sighed in exasperation, "What did you think I was doing all the way out here doll? Anyway, I don't usually discuss open cases with anyone other than the client." He directed the last to Harry meaningfully.

Catching his meaning, Harry waved away his concern, "It's alright, you can talk about it openly."

"Alright. Mr. Potter here hired me to track down a missing dame, a young woman named Cait. He had it on good authority that she's like him, one of those witches or whatever you folks call yourselves. Anyway, I tracked her to Nuka-world, but the trail went cold from there… rumor has it that one or more strong raider gangs have gotten a stranglehold there."

"You don't usually let rumor stop you, Nick." Ester added.

Annoyed at the interruption, "No, but a squad of heavily armed Gunners camped out at the train station certainly do."

Ester settled back and mimed a zipper across her mouth, not wanting to irritate the private dick further.

"Like I was saying, her trail went cold. She and Nora… the survivor from Vault 111, had both walked into that place and as far as I know, haven't come back out. I've stayed here to keep an eye on things, in case she made an appearance, but no luck."

Harry nodded, disappointed but not really surprised. Finding one woman in a wide and hostile Commonwealth had always been a shot in the dark anyway. He pulled a small sack of caps from his backpack and handed it over to Nick, who graciously accepted it and tucked it into an inside pocket of his trench coat.

"I do need to head back to the office. I bet Ellie is worried sick. I'll have to give her a bonus and just hope she doesn't quit on me."

"Well, thanks for everything Nick. You want a lift back to Diamond City?"

Nick eyed him askance, and took a moment to frame his response, "Thanks for the offer, but these old legs are just fine on the ground where they belong. If I had been meant to fly, they'd have welded wings to me when they built me."

"Oh, I meant to ask you. I have a special someone who is having a birthday soon. I need to find something spec…"

Harry pitched forward suddenly, vaulting from his seat and landing unceremoniously on the table, the cups, plates and saucers spinning and scattering away. Shocked, the others could only stare down at the sodden mess of tea and biscuits all over them before it registered that Harry was having some kind of seizure.

Seizing a hold of his shoulders, Luna picked him up off the table and pulled him back down into her lap. She laid a hand on his head and murmured soothingly at him as his body trembled with the pain of his muscles firing.

"What's happening? What's wrong with him?" The others shouted all at once.

Luna ignored them and listened carefully as Harry whispered to her, his eyes closed against the pain but his words coming smooth and unfettered.

As suddenly as it came on, the seizure passed. Harry calmed immediately and took several heavy breaths to settle himself.

"Sorry… Luna, did you hear?"

"Yes. You said the bears were getting onto the train and the golden ocean fallen in flames. Do you know what it means?"

"In the vision, I saw a campground with signs that asked campers not to feed the bears."

"That sounds like Rocky Narrow Park. It's just east of here." Ester supplied.

Harry stood up, "I just had a vision; I think there's trouble at this park. Luna… please come with me, we'll get there faster if we fly."

Not waiting to see if Luna agreed, Harry strode purposefully from the office and in moments was soaring to the east, his wand held ready in his right hand.

Harry slowed as he came upon an old road that ran generally north to south, with a weathered and rocky cliff face rising above it to the east. Atop the cliff, scraggly trees still towered over a small clearing, where Harry could just make out the ruins of a pair of cabins. He slowed further and lazily circled the campsite when he saw them… a menacing trio of horribly mutated bears growling with malice and clawing at the metal skin of a camper.

Harry could faintly make out the panicked cries from within the camper between the bellicose roars of the 'yao guai'. With a mighty screech of tortured metal, a panel weakened by age and corrosion, finally gave way beneath the onslaught.

Harry leapt off the broom and rolled to absorb the impact of the sudden stop. Though no acrobat, he landed precisely where he meant to, in a position to distract the angry bears and direct his magic so that it would not inadvertently harm the people in the trailer. Gulping at the sight of three gaping mouths filled long fangs and dripping hot spittle, he regretted his impulsive act.

A memory suddenly flashed through his mind and with it, a certain impish delight that chased away the specter of fear looming over him.

"Hey you! Don't you want a piece of juicy wizard?" He shouted saucily, holding his hands wide as if in invitation. Harry reasoned that these horrid creatures would rather not have to dig through the metal camper to get at their next meal when one was readily available nearby.

The bears snuffled in confusion for a moment, but as he had hoped, redirected their furious hunger onto him.

The trio of bears came around the trailer, which groaned in protest as it settled back down after having been thoroughly wrecked by the hungry predators. Harry smiled as he waited for the bears to clear the trailer then lifted his wand with a wide smile.

"Diminuendo!"

The white flash from his wand was accompanied by panicked squealing from the rapidly shrinking yao guai. In mere moments, the three massive creatures were reduced to the size of a yorkie. Indulging his very rarely invoked rancor, he swooped ahead in a rush and scooped the three up and jammed the protesting creatures into a sack. They struggled a bit, until he smacked the bag against the side of the trailer with just enough force to let them know who was boss.

"Alright you lot, you're safe now. You can come out if you like."

A bald man with mirrored sunglasses and dressed in travelling clothes stepped warily from the trailer, a young redheaded woman in flannel shirt and jeans peeking out from behind him. Both clutched ratty looking pipe pistols in their trembling hands but in their shock, seemed to have forgotten all about them.

"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Harry. What's your name?"

The older man cleared his throat and blinked, "Sorry, we were literally inches from being lunch to those yao guai and then you show up flying on a broom and… sorry, I'm Ryan. This one is Sophia. I was taking her away from a bad situation, heard that the northwest was safer and that Minutemen were active up here again."

The man stiffened and lifted his pistol slightly, Harry raised his hands in alarm then noted that the man's gaze was fixed behind him. Harry turned and saw that Nick and several Sunshine militia and Minutemen were rushing up from the south, having skirted the rocky cliff and looped around to climb an easier grade. They halted when they saw Harry and satisfied themselves with sitting to catch their breath. Nick merely cocked his head at the scene and lit up a cigarette.

"I see you got this well in hand, Harry."

He was about to answer when Luna landed nearby, her flying technique lending itself more to the adage of slow and steady. She frowned when she saw that he had already taken care of whatever had happened.

Harry motioned for Luna to come over and handed her the bag, smiling and motioning for her to open it. Luna's eyes opened wide and she oooh'd in delight at the tiny bears morosely laying within.

Curious, Nick wandered over to peer in the bag as well, while Harry comforted the two rescues and told them that the armed men who had ran up were from a nearby settlement and had come to help.

It didn't take long to get everything sorted out, and soon the troupe was heading back to Sunshine minus Nick. Seeing the situation was well in hand, he figured he might as well say his goodbyes now and save himself from a potentially melodramatic farewell with Ester.

"I'll come up with something to tell her." Harry promised, shaking the synths hand. He noticed the intense look that the man… Ryan, was giving him as he sent Nick off and couldn't help but think he was being measured in some way.

"Hope to see you again someday, Potter. Maybe in better circumstances."

"You too, Nick. Thanks again for everything."

"Oh yeah, about your predicament… you might try Jamaica Plains. Rumor has it there's buried treasure there." Nick called out.

Harry waved and joined the others.

As they walked back, Harry moved to pace himself with the bald man, looking at him sideways as they made their way back to Sunshine.

"Do you know Nick Valentine? I noticed you staring." Harry began, playing it easy.

"Oh no… in fact, I've never even seen a synth before." The man lied easily, like oil on glass. Likely that he didn't know that Harry had surreptitiously casted a charm that would allow him to better gauge this man's intentions. That he would lie about something like that… frankly confounded him.

"Oh? Well, not many have I suppose." Harry replied, playing the part of buying into the man's story.

"What do you think of them?" The man asked, adjusting his sunglasses. He pulled a pack of Grey Tortoises from a breast pocket and offered one to Harry. When Harry shook his head, he lit it and contentedly blew rings as they walked.

Harry considered the question, wondering if there was some ulterior motive. Something in his gut warned him that there was something off about this man… not exactly an ominous feeling, but still… pensive.

"I've only really dealt with Nick, haven't met any others that I know of. He's a good sort. I suppose if I met one, I'd do what I always do."

"And what's that?"

"Judge a person on who they are, not what they are."

"So, you consider them people?" The man pressed, though his approach was remarkably nonchalant, as if merely passing the time with an interesting debate.

"I consider Nick a person. I imagine that judging someone as 'not a person' would put you in danger of underestimating them. I've long since learned not to underestimate anyone." Harry emphasized the 'anyone' while eyeing him pointedly.

The man smiled and nodded, taking the hint and giving him a token of understanding and respect.

Harry left the pair at the Sunshine clinic, the terse doctor gruffly taking them in and shooing him away. That suited him just fine, as he accomplished what he had set out to do, stretch his legs and get a small taste of adventure before going back to work at Salem.

"Hey Luna. Are you and Soleil ready to come back?"

Luna grudgingly pulled her attention from the tiny yao guai that she had been playing with, rewarding them with scraps of molerat meat.

"Oh yes, I think the people here are good enough on their own now. I do so want to see Susan and see how she's doing. I hope she's alright."

"She is up at the coastal cottage north of Salem helping some people settle down there. I think doing something constructive will do her a world of good."

Luna nodded with a wistful smile, "That's nice. We'll leave in the morning, Soleil hates to fly, so we'll be walking."

Harry gave her a quick hug in farewell and flew off back to the north, judging from the rapidly descending sun that he'd make it back just in time for dinner with Daphne.

All thoughts of dinner flew from his head as he flew over Abernathy Farms, and saw that the very same fields which glowed golden in the noonday sun were now ablaze with an angry orange light. His heart seemed to stop at the awesome sight of the fields aflame. Abernathy was burning!

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you for the patience everyone. This chapter took a little time to complete due to some reworking I had to do on the outline. Hope you enjoyed this and as always, please review._


	13. Chapter 12: Butcher Pete

**Chapter 12: Butcher Pete – Roy Brown**

 _I've decided to start replying to reviews from the previous chapter here, so here we go!_

 _Frankieu: Thank you for following the story for so long and your consistent encouragement. As to your musing... well, that guy certainly seemed 'familiar'._

 _Coduss: Doesn't he though? Like I've seen him before, only in different guises_

 _Vampirelord101: Lol, I'll try not to! Thanks!_

 _Aesir21: I smile to myself when I think of someone like Neville with someone like Fingers. I mentally picture the raider as looking like Alissa White-Gluz. You can google her, she is the lead singer for Arch Enemy. Honestly I hadn't gotten that far in my outline to determine if Harry goes to Far Harbor or not._

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione couldn't help but smile, as despite the late start, the pair were making good time by staying mostly to the roads that her 'boyfriend's' Minutemen had diligently cleared of debris and troublesome raiders and other nuisances. They chatted amiably as they walked, the occasional cool breezes making the somewhat hot day more than bearable. Despite the almost nonchalant ambience of their trip, Jonathan's gaze never seemed to settle in one spot for too long, his head constantly swiveling left to right as he kept careful watch.

His diligent scan took on an aura of longing as they settled on the ancient wreck of some kind of army vehicle, the forlorn shape slowly sinking into the morass to the side of the road.

"It would be nice not to have to walk everywhere." Hermione noted, playing into his musing demeanor.

Jonathan smiled at that, "You technically don't have too. You have your flying ships and your brooms."

Hermione's face twisted sourly, "I'm not big on flying."

He laughed at her discomfort, though it was light hearted.

"There are an awful lot of wrecks, you ever think of fixing one up? In fact, I'm surprised no one had thought to do that."

Jonathan seemed to consider the question, "That's actually a good question… I don't know why no one had ever tried to repair one before. Maybe because the roads are so clogged with debris, it'd be hard to drive more than a few yards in one. Plus, the daily struggle just to be fed probably puts things like transportation on the back burner. And, where would they go? They have their hands full working their farms or scavenging and keeping what they have from raiders and the like."

"It's much safer now. And the roads… at least the ones up here, are in pretty good repair."

"True…" Jonathan seemed to consider her comments seriously, and glanced back at the military vehicle with more than simple longing. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

The stopped for a late lunch at Bedford station, sitting inside an old rail car and watching as a small crew of settlers from Tenpines Bluff used cranes and levers to move heavy stone blocks onto a flatbed rail car. The Minuteman contingent watching over them waved cheerfully at the pair, one of them offering a salute to their General. Hermione wondered if she should give them a hand with their hard work, but with a glance at the pride in Jonathan's eyes, decided to let them do their work unfettered with her help.

Hermione saw the happy pride with which the settlers worked, their camaraderie only intensified by the difficulty of the job and the immense satisfaction as they loaded each heavy block was palpable. Merely months before, these men and women would never have conceived of doing something that actually paid future dividends, instead worrying over feeding their families and always looking over their shoulders.

She started when Jonathan handed her a steaming bowl of beans and something that resembled bacon. She appreciated his cooking, though it irked her somewhat that despite all her efforts, she rarely could make anything more appetizing than somewhat burned toast. She sat next to him, blowing gently on the beans to cool them. He pulled some bannock that he had made that morning from his pack and tore the piece in two, handing her a piece with which to scoop out the beans.

"This looks like their last load." Jonathan took a healthy bite and paused to blow around the hot beans burning his mouth.

"Is this for their wall?" Hermione asked.

Recovering enough to answer, he swallowed his mouthful and nodded, "I think so. Though I seem to remember that they are also considering replacing the road and plank bridge with a more sturdy structure."

Changing the subject, "Where are we going from here?" Hermione asked, still prudently waiting for her lunch to cool.

"We'll follow the rails south to the next road close to Starlight. Then we'll swing east past the rotten landfill. There's a settlement near there called Covenant. I've never been there but I hear the people there are friendly and welcoming, though a little eccentric."

"How so?" Hermione asked.

"One of my patrols stopped there and were given an exam before being allowed entrance. Weird questions like, what position you would play if you made the baseball team… as if anyone around here knows what baseball is."

"I wonder what the point of that is."

"I don't know. But as far as I know, they answered the questions right and were allowed in. Nothing odd in the town itself, they traded some of their pure water to replenish their food and ammo and were on their way the next morning without a fuss."

"I guess it'll be nice to see another town of actual people making a living rather than a ruin full of raiders."

"Yeah. Apparently, the buildings in their little town are almost pristine… as if they didn't suffer from the Great War or the intervening years of decay. They maintain their safety with a wall and a number of turrets, and so are freer to maintain a higher standard of living than most other settlements. It'd be interesting to take notes and maybe open a more formal relationship with them."

"You mean offer Minuteman protection?" Hermione asked, her tone lowering slightly as she remembered Harry's reticence at trusting the organization too much.

"No." he laughed, "It doesn't sound like they need it anyway. No, the Minutemen failed before because they lost sight of their purpose. We're here to help, not to dictate or conquer. If they ask for help, we're more than happy to provide. If not, then maybe we can be friendly enough that we have an arrangement. A sort of safe harbor for my teams patrolling the roads."

Their conversation shifted to other topics as they finished their lunch, Hermione reveling in the simple pleasure that so often got overlooked in her previous life. She cast a simple charm to chill the Nuka Cola they were sharing, to Jonathan's delight. His satisfied sigh brought a smile to her lips. He stood up and brushed crumbs from his trousers and extended a hand down to her, helping her to stand. He never failed to offer every courtesy, sometimes treating her as if she were being officially courted. The thought made her blush, was that what he was doing? The idea made her heart race.

* * *

"Pitcher." Jonathan answered, his annoyance only noticeable to Hermione.

"Are you sure? The 'gatekeeper' predictably asked.

The man had asked the very same after EVERY single question. Jonathan was more than irked at that, considering he spent more time ogling Hermione than taking note of her answers during her turn.

Jonathan's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Hermione felt some alarm at the way his hands tightened on the armrests of his chair. She laid a hand on his shoulder, nearly gasping at how tense he felt. She was a little confused, as he was normally much more patient than this.

Looking up from his clipboard, the man finally noted the hard look that Jonathan was giving him and visibly blanched. He cleared his throat nervously and smiled, setting his pen down.

"Well, that was the last one. Welcome to Covenant!" He announced, trying to inject a degree of joviality into his tone.

Cracking like a frozen lake in spring, Jonathan's ire seemed to melt away and he stood up with an almost casual air. He grinned, shook the man's hand and got up from his chair as though he hadn't about to unleash hell on the man.

They passed into the gate and were struck by the clean and cozy homes that surrounded the small settlement. There were a small number of crops located next to a workbench to the right, though from the size of the plot, it wasn't enough to feed even a settlement of that meager size.

They walked casually through the place, the few residents pausing their work to smile and offer a kind greeting… it was almost eerie. Hermione wondered if this is how people visiting Salem for the first time felt. Probably more, because as nice as this 'Covenant' was, it was a pale shadow of Salem.

"Try a nice cold glass of Deezer's lemonade!" The Mr. Handy proudly proclaimed.

"Lemonade? Um… what's in it?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Only the finest ingredients in Deezer's lemonade! Try one for free today!"

"Um, no thanks."

She saw that the hard cast to his eyes hadn't completely abated, Jonathan even seemed to be… skittish.

She murmured a quick charm to envelope them in a bubble of quietude then pulled him gently into the shade between two houses, "What is it? You've been acting dodgy ever since we arrived."

He glanced about, as if to ensure no one was near and hung his head. "I'm not sure. It's this strange feeling I get sometimes. Something is off here. I feel the same way when I know someone is lying to me. It's like that only… it's everywhere, with everything. Like this whole place is a lie."

Hermione didn't quite know what to think. She never gave much credence to divination or auguries, she did trust Jonathan's instincts. She had learned that maybe as a result of genetic manipulation and selective breeding, he had the ability perceive things that she would need magic to detect.

"Talk me through it." She murmured, gripping his arm affectionately.

He nodded, then leaned out from the wall they were standing next to, "That woman, the young one in the green jumpsuit."

Hermione looked and tapped his arm to let him know she saw her.

"Look at the way she acts around strangers. That man that looks like a mercenary? He's here for answers and he's frustrated. He asks her a question and she responds with an unusual amount of nervousness."

"The older man in the patched suit? He's as greasy as a politician… like that McDonough. He pretends that all is well here in Camelot, but his heart rate is unusually elevated."

"You can hear his heart beating?!" Hermione asked, astonished.

"When I'm standing close enough and can focus. I can distinguish different sounds even through the noise from a battle. I guess it's partially genetics and partially from our training."

"Does that mean you can hear it when my heart rate changes?"

"Every time." He spoke with emphasis, his arm drawing her around the waist and pulling her in close. She felt his breath warm against her neck and felt a shiver as his hand trailed down her back. He kissed her lightly on her earlobe and she very nearly gasped at the electricity arcing from his touch.

"That's… really not fair." She breathed.

"Compensates a little for you being a witch." He laughed. He stopped suddenly and looked to his left. She followed his gaze and saw that the mercenary was watching them, a befuddled look twisting his face comically.

"He sees us talking and laughing, but the shield I cast is keeping him from hearing it."

Jonathan caught himself, a bubble of laughter ready to burst in his chest. She giggled as well, imagining what it must look like to see two people's mouths moving without sound.

The man shook his head and moved off, undoubtedly adding the strange sight to the list of things he found wrong about this settlement.

Jonathan rested his head on Hermione's shoulder and murmured in her ear, "I don't want to stay here. I think maybe we should move out. There's a house on the shores of the small lake nearby where the Suttons live. They've let me stay the night and they're nice enough folks."

"Ok." Hermione nodded, giving him a consoling smile.

Though met with odd looks the pair of them moved on, waving goodbye as they walked through the gates of Covenant.

A suspicious Swanson stepped in front of Jonathan, "You've only just gotten here, why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Jonathan looped an arm easily over Swanson's shoulder and leaned in toward him conspiratorially, "That man… the one that looks like a mercenary? He's been looking at my wife here in a way that makes me… a little upset. I don't want to cause trouble in your fine town, so we're going to go visit some friends down the road."

Swanson nodded understandably, "Yeah, you're not the only one he's making nervous. Can't say that I blame you. Though Penny will be irritated at losing your coin in trade."

"We're heading back this way in a week or so, just visiting the wife's family. You know… in-laws." Jonathan rolled his eyes dramatically. Swanson smiled and nodded and in a few moments was waving them cheerily on their way.

Hermione had to admit to a little thrill when he had referred to her as his wife, though she knew it was merely subterfuge.

"Wife, eh? You should be so lucky." She growled.

"I would." He stated simply, leaving her to wonder if there was any subtext there.

"Do you still have that mirror? The one you use to talk to your people from far away?" Jonathan asked, apropos of nothing.

"Um, actually yes. Though Lilith has the other mirror at the moment. For some reason, Harry doesn't like carrying it around."

Jonathan wisely kept whatever opinion he had on that to himself, "Would you contact Lilith then? I need an owl sent to Sanctuary with some instructions for Preston."

"Is this about Covenant?"

He nodded, "There's something about it that just bothers me. I don't want to further delay our trip though and besides, a very smart person once told me that I can't be everywhere and do everything."

Hermione, dug around in her small knit haversack, handing Jonathan things to hold that couldn't have fit in the small bag. After a moment, she pulled the mirror free and stroked its surface to awaken the magic.

They walked for a time and slowed as they came upon an unsettling scene.

"Hello? Hermione? Is that you?" Lilith's voice came through the mirror.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Lilith. Can you give me a minute? We just found something awful."

"Oh sure, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'll talk to you in a minute."

Jonathan was already kneeling beside the first body, from the green uniform and combat armor, she assumed that she was a Gunner.

"I didn't know this one. She bled out from multiple gunshot wounds."

He moved over to another body, "Trader, he died pretty quickly from a single gunshot to the back of the head."

The poor brahmin had literally been perforated by a large volume of gunfire, the body torn open and its viscera exposed. Hermione had to cover her mouth against the smell.

After examining the last body, Jonathan turned to her, "This caravan was ambushed from the direction of Covenant. The Gunner was likely a guard hired by this trader and managed to return fire before succumbing to her wounds. And then there's this." He held up a canister with 'Deezer's Lemonade' proudly stenciled along its side.

"You were right, there is something dodgy about that place." Hermione turned back to the mirror, "Lilith? Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you there?"

Talking through Hermione, Jonathan relayed instructions for Preston to send word to an old acquaintance of his named McCready. He would meet up with Roger and Codsworth at Taffington, the settlement nearby where they were planning to stay the night. They would then proceed to Covenant and investigate.

"McCready doesn't come cheap, but he is well worth it." He stated after Lilith had agreed to send an owl to Sanctuary right away.

"I thought he was a friend of yours?" Hermione asked, a little confused.

"Oh he is, but the man still has to make a living. He has a son that lives to the south, a place called the Capital Wasteland. He originally came up here to find the cure for an illness that his son contracted. I helped him to get it and now he's staying until he earns enough to retire and go home. Seems that mercenary work is a little dry down there because that's where a chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel is headquartered and they've pretty much pacified that whole area."

"Sounds like you have a little bit of a complicated history with him." Hermione noted.

"I understand him." He stated simply, shrugging. "He worked with the Gunners once, after my time. And like me, didn't like how they operated and left them. They've hounded him for a time until I managed to help him discourage them."

"You think he will be able to solve this mystery?" Hermione wondered aloud, motioning in the general direction of the eerie settlement.

"If anyone can, McCready can. I even… wait, do you hear that?"

Hermione had to stop and listen carefully, even then uncertain if what she thought she heard was what he was referring to.

"A wonky buzzing sound?"

They had come within sight of the Sutton's homestead, Taffington boathouse and the sound that she had thought merely distant background noise had definitely both increased in volume and pitch.

Hermione shivered at the implications. The only other time she had heard that sound before presaged the appearance of monstrously large mosquitos.

"Oh my god. The house is infested." Jonathan gasped, as a number of the hideously massive blood bugs rose from their perch and began to fly toward them.

"Immobilus!" Hermione shouted, raising her wand high and sending a shockwave of paralyzing energy rippling outward toward the incoming terrors.

The buzzing ceased immediately, the hapless insects barely twitching as they floated insensate in front of them. Wasting no time, Jonathan drew a combat knife from his boot and moved forward to end their threat for good.

Hermione gagged at the site of the blue bloated brahmin laying by the boathouse, clearly a victim of the bloodbug's feeding. Her heart hammered in her chest in sympathy to the terrible look in Jonathan's eyes as he called out for the Suttons.

"Mary! Russell! Margie! Is anyone there?!" He rushed inside, his combat rifle held ready as he explored the main house. Hermione followed at a safe distance and extended her magical senses… her heart falling as she sensed no one alive inside. She joined him upstairs in time to hear him groan in sorrow.

"Oh no. Mary." The body of an older woman lay next to a bathtub, a note clutched in her hands and a look of abject terror writ across her pale face. A gaping hole opened bloodlessly in her abdomen, leaving little doubt as to how the poor woman had died.

Jonathan closed her eyes and pried the note from her dead fingers. He scanned it then held it out for Hermione to take.

"Mom,

Russell has been gone over a day now and I'm getting worried. We were going to wait to tell you, but we found an old holotape from before the war in the boat shed. It sounded like someone had stashed some chems in the drainage at the end of the canal. Russell thought we might be able to sell them to one of the traders. Maybe use the caps to buy another brahmin.

I'm sorry we didn't tell you, we just wanted it to be a surprise. But that's the second of those bugs we've seen today and I think something went wrong, so I'm going to have a look for him. Don't worry – I'm just going to take a quick peek and I'll be back soon.

-Margie"

 _***Work cited_

 _Fallout 4, Bethesda, November 10, 2015***_

Hermione let the note fall from nerveless fingers. A handful of settlers had almost no chance against the number of bloodbugs that they had found infesting the settlement.

"Do you think that 'Margie' could still be alive?" Hermione asked quietly, afraid that she already knew the answer.

"There's only one way to find out. In the note she talked about a canal, there's something like that nearby."

* * *

The closer to the 'canal' they travelled, the less likely it appeared to the both of them that the Sutton's survived this incident. Swarms of hungry bloodbugs rose from the mud and muck to assail them, though they were easily dispatched through Hermione's magic and Jonathan's methodical coups de grace.

Hermione was not the least bit surprised, though still aggrieved as Jonathan pulled a young woman's body free from the muck just outside an outflow pipe. He wiped the slime from her face, showing a pretty girl whose face was frozen in a rictus of panicked terror. Like her mother, she had suffered a number of stab wounds and had likely been drained of her blood in moments.

They moved into the pipe that she had been about to investigate, ignoring the stinking refuse sloshing around their calves.

The pipe opened into some sort of sewage trap, a somewhat cavernous room with multiple pipes redirecting water flow out into the small lake. Again, the buzzing assailed their ears and yet again, Hermione silenced it with deft wand work.

"Damn it, Russell." Jonathan swore quietly, turning over the bloated corpse of a young man.

He fell onto his haunches and massaged his eyes, heedless of the muddy slime he was smearing onto his face. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder and let him silently grieve.

"He was a hothead, but he was devoted to his mother and sister. He always tried to come up with ways of making their lives better. He was a good kid and was going to grow up to be a good man. Margie was very pretty and sweet, I always pictured her being the picture perfect mom to a swarm of little ones. Mary… Mary was a tough old gal. She left her abusive addict of a husband to settle here and tried to eke out a new life for her babies. They deserved better than this."

A single tear tracked a clean line down his cheek, though his face was hard with angry frustration. It was one of the things she loved about him most, his passion for people and how he seemed to take it personally when he came across a tragedy like this. And tragedies were an all too common occurrence here in the Commonwealth.

"Let's bury them." Hermione suggested, knowing that Jonathan needed some action in order to help him through the frustration he felt. He nodded, grateful for her understanding and support, and lifted the young man easily in his strong arms.

Hermione levitated Margie's body and guided it gently back to the boathouse next to him. They chose a spot just across the ruined street from the house, the rocky dirt no impediment to Hermione's magic.

Minutes later, 3 fresh mounds of earth were marked by 3 crosses, each of the Sutton's names and today's date painstakingly scratched into the crosspiece by Jonathan.

"Remind me to have Preston send a crew here to secure the site. It's a good place and could make some families a good home. If only I had pushed harder for the Minutemen to expand… they might not have stood alone against these damn things."

"No, don't start blaming yourself. Remember, you can't be everywhere? As much as I would want to, neither can I, even with magic."

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

"Bugger me, they're everywhere!"

Harry swerved and dove, avoiding the massive volume of fire that was tracing its way from the treeline directly at him. His shield had long since expired and despite the sheer amount of magic he threw at them, the animal-like raiders seemed to be endless in number.

A squad of Minutemen had come from Sanctuary and joined with the Abernathy Militia along the southern walls, firing into the press with wild abandon. The turrets had long since been blasted to pieces, though they gave a good account of themselves, cutting entire swathes out of the brightly colored press of hooting foes.

It had only seemed like a moment ago when a raucous chorus of animal-like howls rose up from the south as a massive pack of brightly clothed raiders boiled from the woods and headed straight for Abernathy's defensive wall. The turrets lit up, but they were woefully inadequate to stem the tide of bestial wrath coming for them.

These raiders seemed to have an affinity for animals, as they were accompanied into battle by a literal menagerie of mutant creatures. Yao guai stood up on hind legs and beat against the gate with their fearsome strength, the settlers hurriedly reinforcing the disintegrating barrier with everything they could get their hands on. Mole rats burst up from behind the lines, tearing into the hapless farmers as they worked to battle both the enemies at the wall and the fires raging across their beloved fields. Mongrels ran in packs, searching for a way in and slavering with eager anticipation.

Harry was already tired, exhaustion slowing him as he casted shielding charms on the defenders, killing those creatures that burst up from behind the wall and killing as many raiders as he could as an afterthought. A searing pain drew a line of fire on his leg and his broom exploded into splinters.

Harry maintained the presence of mind to arrest his descent, landing in a heap but unhurt.

Lurching to his feet, he looked around at the chaos all around him, the original eight man militia now down to four, Lucy Abernathy crying even as she pulled men and women from harm's way and applied first aid where she could.

The Minutemen were accounting themselves well, and had arrived just in time to keep the settlement from being overwhelmed, but even their added strength was a pittance against the sheer mass of raiders being thrown at them. Harry could almost feel a malevolent force behind the attack, as if a malign will was setting the raiders upon them with a cruel will.

"Daphne's going to kill me." He muttered to himself as he vaulted up the scaffolding and onto the walls. He was disheartened to see that there were still nearly a hundred raiders… and that they were too far spread for him to deal with them in one fell swoop. Hurriedly firing blue flares into the deepening night sky, and hoping that they would be seen and acted upon, he grit his teeth and flashed his wand at the enemy.

Anger fired his gaze and everywhere he looked, death quickly followed. As more and more of the raiders fell to his wrath, more of them directed their attacks to the area of the wall he was defending. Bullets struck the metal reinforced concrete like rain and the shielding charms he had cast were swiftly brought down. A man to his left cried out as he fell off the wall, blood spraying in an arc from the wound in his shoulder.

The old Harry might have been distracted onto ruin by sympathy, but if his struggles in another age against Voldemort taught him anything, it was that focus is what kept any witch or wizard from crossing the line of life and death.

Sadly, even focusing on the battle before him could not keep him free from danger, a fact made all the more poignant by the sudden pain blossoming in his stomach. He grabbed at his stomach in reflex, and nearly swooned when his hand became awash with hot blood.

His momentary lapse proved fatal for the Abernathy militia to either side of him, as a number of raiders ascended the wall under the lessening resistance and swiftly overwhelmed the defenders with sheer ferocity. A strong set of hands reached under his arms and pulled him into a small guard shed where Lucy was waiting with a stimpack and a grim expression darkening her face.

A Minuteman, Lucy's beau by the way he hovered protectively over her, aimed and fired right over her as she worked over Harry's stomach wound, the distinct 'sprang' of his laser musket adding to the visual and auditory din.

He stood suddenly and used his musket to block the wickedly cruel edge of a blade descending on them, the howling raider who wielded it spraying spittle everywhere as he struggled against the young minuteman.

Lucy kept one hand on his stomach wound, protecting the area until the stimpack could start to knit the flesh back together and pulled a weathered 10mm pistol with the other. Not bothering to aim, she jammed the muzzle just beneath a purple teddy bear that the raider had affixed to his chest armor and emptied her magazine into his torso. The man screeched like an inhuman beast as his body shuddered with each round that tore into him. He fell back with a heavy thud and was unceremoniously kicked off the platform by the minuteman.

"They're breaking through!" he shouted, noting the disastrous event as he stepped back from disposing of their unwanted guest.

He fell over on the both of them, shielding them with his body as a massive explosion shook the entire length of the wall. They coughed against the haze of smoke and dust that blanketed them and tried to peer through the miasma to see what was happening.

Nerveless fingers barely clutching his wand, Harry summoned up the strength to summon a wind and cleared away the smoke, the resulting scene making him wish he hadn't.

The bulk of the surviving raiders, still severely outnumbering the defenders, boiled into the settlement through the ruined gate, howling even as they met the line of mixed militia who had formed up to meet them. They fired a volley into the mass, stalling their charge, though only momentarily.

Harry, feeling some of his strength return, stood up on shaky legs and whipped his wand up. He was determined that he was far from defeated. He conjured a wall of fire, the roaring conflagration springing to life in a curved line separating the raiders from the people of Abernathy. Imbuing the heat with a measure of his anger, the fire reached forward with whip like tendrils, ensnaring several raiders around the neck. They screeched in agony as the ropes of flame lifted them up and hurled them back into their own people, tongues of flame reaching out from their flaming bodies to spread like a plague.

Not enough… it's not enough. Harry lamented, seeing that despite his conjuration, the flood of enemies was largely unfettered. The wall of fire died as his strength failed him, his bottom striking the hard floor of the guard shack as he fell.

His shock was complete when a trio of raiders flew away from a wild woman in nothing more than a crimson vest and leather pants twirled between them, her foot lashing out with devastating force. Her hair was short and seemed alight against the fires raging throughout the settlement. She snapped her foot straight up and under the chin of a howling raider, his cries suddenly cutting off as a gout of blood erupted from his mouth.

Another raider lifted into the air as a black blade burst through his torso, an armored fist raising it and his thrashing body and tossing him off the sword like a piece of refuse. A massive figure resplendent in dark plates tromped ahead and swung the sword with supernatural force, bisecting a pair of raiders who failed to get out of the way in time. The pair worked their way to the line of defenders, their brutal assault chewing its way from the back to the front of the enemy mob.

"What are ye all waiting around for? Get to killin!" The woman shouted at the militia, who had almost to a man, stopped to gape at the incredible display. Effectively chided by the angry woman, they lifted their weapons and fired another volley at the raiders, which tipped the balance of their resolve toward the breaking point.

The several dozen raiders fell back in disarray, only to meet the rest of their kin coming into the gate. Encouraged by the reinforcement, the raiders stopped their flight and formed something resembling a formation… though it was more them standing near their allies than it was any conscious effort on their behalf.

Harry heard the minuteman behind him groan at the number of raiders that remained. Despite the heroic charge of the two stranger and no small effort on his part, there remained the better part of sixty raiders.

The other militia fidgeted, suddenly losing all heart in the face of such odds, a few of them even expressing their dismay in wails of despair.

"Aw pipe doon, you lot. Better yet, noo may be a good time to duck!"

She fell flat onto her stomach, and out of sheer astonishment more than anything, the others fell as well, uncertainty and fear widening their eyes so that the whites nearly glowed like pearls.

The raiders began to hoot and chant, the percussive tempo of their taunting further demoralizing the settlers, many of whom covered their ears to drown out the primitive chorus.

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a strange sensation intruding into his thoughts. It was much like when he could feel Voldemort, a sort of pressure building up in part of his mind. He gasped more in the memory of pain than from any real hurt he was experiencing from this new sensation.

It began as a dull roar, like the sound of ocean waves cresting upon a distant shore… like the waves that crashed against the rocks below his bedroom window, the waves that lulled him to sleep on the few occasions he was in his room.

This sound… the rising crescendo, did not lull him like the waves of that distant home, instead it filled him with an electric anticipation.

Blue light reflected from the walls of the guard shack, it rippled like something alive. Again, like the reflection of light from a body of water lit from within. He craned his neck to look over the wall and found his breath stolen from him at the sight of a massive wave of undulating blue energy rushing toward the settlement. What kind of power did this portend? He closed his eyes as the light became too intense for his eyes, fear rising up within him like a suffocating blanket. He heard Lucy and her love mewling beside him, certain in their hearts that the blue fire would be their ruin.

He felt a cool sensation, a strong arctic breeze which did little more than tousle his hair and make him shiver. He dared to open his eyes to find that the wave had passed through the wall as if untroubled by the concrete redoubt and swept in at the mass of bodies milling in confusion.

Confusion rapidly transformed into terror and pain. The raiders were flung up with the energy of the wave and utterly consumed, their bodies disintegrating like sand sculptures effaced beneath a deluge of rain. The settlers braced themselves for the death coming for them and stood trembling for a moment made pregnant with anticipation. A ripple of gasps flowed through the group as the wave passed through them and gifted them with the same cool breeze that Harry had felt.

The silence that followed was palpable. When finally broken, it was by the few remnants of the raider horde that had not yet gained the settlement. Their voices faded into the night, mournful howls echoing up in the night sky like a retreating pack of wolves.

* * *

A coach of wrought iron trundled through the gate, pulled by all things, by a pair of mechanical horses which were also black. Harry blinked, those horses looked like upscaled versions of the 'giddyup buttercup' toys he had seen. A simple blonde man dressed as a mere farmer 'drove' the coach, appearing completely nonplussed about driving an obviously magical conveyance.

Both the redhead and the armored man approached the vehicle as it came to a halt just inside the settlement. The driver leapt down and opened the door, greeting the two children who leapt out into his arms. But it was the one who followed out that made Harry nearly pass out. A darkly beautiful woman of almost ethereal grace seemed to flow out of the coach more than step. Her skin was as pale as moonlight and her dress looked no more substantial than wisps of shadow that clung to her curvy shape.

Harry recovered enough to hobble down and approach the odd group, carefully stowing his wand so that he would not be perceived as a threat. A subconscious fear nearly did him in, though in the end curiosity got the better of him.

"Hello." He began, pausing at how inadequate the simple greeting must sound in light of the awesome events.

"Thank you for saving Abernathy. I don't know that we would've lasted another moment if you lot hadn't come along." Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and stood expectantly.

"Yer welcome. And who might you be?" The redhead asked saucily, looking him up and down as if sizing up her next fight… or next meal.

"Right! Harry Potter. Good to meet you." He grinned.

The driver came forward with a smile, both of his children clutching his legs as he held out a hand for Harry to shake.

"Ben Walsh, these rug rats are my pride and joy, Liam and Abigail."

Harry smiled down at the shy children and looked up when the redhead coughed emphatically.

"Cait. This silent heap of walking metal is Tacitus."

Cait. The name resounded in his head like a thunderbolt, "Cait? As in the woman recently in the company of a certain vault dweller named Nora?"

She spat to the side at the mention of the 'Sole Survivor'. Her features twisted in anger as she replied, "Dunnah mention that name to me again unless ye be wanting to dine on yer own teeth."

"But you are her?" Harry pressed, ignoring the threat.

"Unless someone else is wearing me skin, I'm the stupid bitch that followed that skank. If it weren't for her," She indicated the dark woman with a thumb over her shoulder, "I'd be a wet smear on the ground."

Harry took a breath to steady himself, "My friends and I have been looking for you."

"Oh? And why's that? You hear about me fine arse? Well, ye aren't really me type, but I hadn't had a good tumble in awhile, so I'm game if you are."

"Um… not what I meant. We had been led to believe that you are like us…"

"Oh well, if ye change yer mind, I haven't gotten laid in a good while."

Harry sputtered at the salacious attitude of 'Cait'.

"And what kind of person are you, Mr. Harry Potter?" The woman in black cut in, gliding up between the Cait and Tacitus to stand in front of Harry.

"Well…" Harry paused, wondering how best to answer and then decided on honesty, "I'm a wizard. My friends and I are among the few that can perform magic… though I suspect you may already know that. Who are you?"

The woman regarded him quietly, raising a finger to tap idly on her rose red lips as she appeared to consider what Harry had told her. Seemingly making up her mind, she raised her head almost haughtily.

"Yes, I suspected as much. My name, is Morgan Le Fay."

* * *

 **POV: Jeremiah**

"Yes… you have done very well." Jeremiah purred, stroking the trembling carapace of his former lieutenant.

Indeed the man had performed admirably in culling the disgusting muggle ghouls from that tiny eyesore of a settlement and had used the special robots he had been provided in very creative ways.

The former lieutenant and failed usurper fairly salivated at the praise, his eyes glowing with hope that his master would find his service satisfactory enough to grant him release from his tormented existence.

Jeremiah stepped back and smiled amiably at the man, even waving goodbye cheerfully before raising his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" He shouted, the green bolt of killing energy streaking out and instantly snuffing out the life of his servant. He glided over and peered into his dead eyes, noting that the man wore a slight smile on his face. Jeremiah was glad that he could reward loyal service thus, it motivated others to do their very best in fulfilling his mandate.

He straightened and peered over at his daughter, sitting in a silent heap on the ground as tiny rivulets of blood streamed from the multiple wounds the barbed penitent engine had inflicted on her. He had released her in a moment of sympathy, a weakness he allowed himself on rare occasions.

"Ivey. Please look at me when I'm speaking to you, it's only polite."

The young woman raised her head with difficulty, her weakness from the torture and blood loss quite apparent in her sluggish response.

Jeremiah strode forward and knelt in front of her, so that she did not have to raise her head any further. He liked to show that he could be considerate of others, he just usually chose not to.

He tenderly stroked her cheek and raised his wand beyond her line of sight… he didn't want to frighten her further after all.

"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur." He quietly chanted, waving the wand over her body. Her wounds closed up, leaving no trace that they had ever been. Her exhaustion would have to be treated with more mundane means, specifically, ample food and rest.

He laid a wand in her hands, her fist tightening around the smooth wood and for the first time, her eyes took on a look of something other than abject misery. Confusion warred with hope in her face, the disparate feelings contorting her features weirdly. It nearly made Jeremiah laugh aloud.

"I have a task for you daughter, once you've rested and eaten." He rose slowly, raising her up with him.

He looked her evenly in the eyes, "If you are up for it."

"Yes father." She breathed hurriedly, grasping on the thread of hope he offered.

"Excellent! I knew your time spent in the penitent engine would reinvigorate your enthusiasm! Some of our men have reported receiving an automated emergency signal that indicates the presence of a heretofore unknown vault! How exciting! They've tracked it to the southeast Commonwealth and they say that the message indicates that it's called Vault 88."

"You wish for me to investigate it father?"

"Yes! Exactly that! Well put. Take as many people as you feel you need and some of the new robots that had performed so admirably at cleansing the ghoul infestation. I think you will find them quite adept at mayhem!"

"I will begin right away." Ivey stated, though she seemed slightly out of breath.

"Tomorrow or the next day is fine, my dear. Get some rest first. You need to be in top shape to do your best!"

Taking that as a dismissal, Ivey left her father's audience chamber, stepping gingerly around the dead lieutenant and somehow summoning up the strength to move with a degree of alacrity.

Jeremiah giggled at that, oh how people seemed to scurry around him!

He gathered up the loose material of his robes before shuffling off to the prison block, idly humming as he noted that he had lost some weight recently and would likely need to eat soon himself. With so many plans in motion and so much to do, he often forgot to do the simple things necessary to keep his biology functioning. It was a necessary nuisance, one that he hoped would eventually become unnecessary.

The rust devils flanking the large vault like door hurried to open it at his approach, the heavy blast door squealing with protest as they struggled against its weight.

Hardly slowing his stride, he stepped over the threshold into the large cavern where a group of the vault dwellers sat in despondency. Two of the guards who stood watch inside joined him as he walked up to the prisoners. One of them readied a clipboard while the other held the keys to their manacles.

Jeremiah inspected the rusted chains that held them to the ground. They fit tightly around their necks and were bolted directly onto the concrete floor, leaving only a couple of feet of slack for them to move around. Hence, most of them lay on their side or sat hunched in what had to be a remarkably uncomfortable position.

He hums to himself as he works, testing each and every person for the magical gene with a touch of his wand. He stops and stretches for a moment, looking up and down the line of prisoners and noting with a touch of dismay that he had already tested a little over a third of them and had found none with the gene.

The men beside him noted his brief scowl and stepped timidly back, perhaps wondering if they had annoyed him somehow. Jeremiah shook his head, surely he wasn't that unreasonable and prone to lashing out in frustration? No, wait… yes he was.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he let the stink of humanity suffuse him, replacing the edgy feeling of failure with the pungent aroma of humanity at its most honest… when it suffered. He moved on, tapping his wand with greater and greater force against the prisoners as each one failed to relinquish that which he desired. Fate was being unkind to him, he decided, surely he worked hard enough to deserve some measure of success? The prisoners began to cry out as he jabbed them mercilessly, snarling at each failure. Each one was an obstacle in his path to immortality. Each one was a personal affront to all he had worked for and this was simply unacceptable!

An older mother, an attractive if dirty woman of perhaps 40 years, was clutching a small child in her arms protectively. He frowned at that, then noted that the child was far too small to be collared, being barely a toddler. He wondered at that, a woman of her age having a child at all spoke well of her health and fertility. She shied away from his probe but could not pull away far enough to keep the wand from tapping the child, the ecstasy which flowed through him when the tip glowed nearly made him weep with relief.

"Take the boy." He commanded, his voice betraying his jubilation at the discovery. With a speed that surprised even him, the woman surged to her feet, the links from the chain glowing hot as they sparked and tinkled onto the ground. He found a wand pointed at his face and nearly danced at the unexpected bonus.

She wasted no time, lashing out with her power and nearly bisecting him before he could hurriedly raise a shield to protect himself. He cackled as her power contended with his own, the spitting lash of blue energy from her wand tangling with the purple from his. The other prisoners cried out at the display and tried to shy away from the sparks which erupted into the air and singed flesh.

Holding his own against her motherly fury, he gestured with his free hand and felt the comforting cold metal of a pistol being placed in his palm. Still laughing, he casually shot the woman's leg out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground in a howl of agony.

"Expelliarmus!" He cried, snatching the wand from midair as it flew from her fingers. Her hands now unfettered, she clutched her leg with both hands while tears streamed down her face, her pain likely augmented by the despair at being discovered by the dark wizard.

"Ssshhh…Hush now! I'm not going to hurt you. Or your precious child. Indeed, we are the same! We need to look out for one another in this cruel world!"

Jeremiah stepped back and directed his men to see to her, they stepped forward and treated with her gently, careful lest they further hurt the woman. They cared little for causing pain, they merely wished to avoid Jeremiah's ire. Magicals were precious commodities to him and he had made it abundantly clear that he looked dimly on any 'clumsiness'.

The woman sobbed as they lifted her between them, her tear streaked face turned plaintively toward her little boy as he struggled in the burly arms of another Rust Devil. Jeremiah motioned for the man to give the child back to her and watched as they were taken away to be cleaned up and placed in secure quarters more befitting their worth.

He giggled in embarrassment as he noted that the brief magical duel had so excited him that it had made his manhood stand out erect and pushed at the fabric of his robes like a tent pole. The woman wasn't bad to look at, with healthy hips and ample bosom. Despite her age, she could surely bear one or two more children. He grinned at the prospect, now much more eager to finish his work so he could attend to one of the more pleasurable of his 'duties'.

He fairly skipped down the line, the lack of any more magicals in the group bothering him not at all, now that he had found those two treasures. Tapping the last lightly and shrugging against the negative indication, he turned to his two assistants.

"Ok, see that the rest here are put to some use. Some of them look healthy enough to be put to work. Check and see if any are Rust Devil material, after all… Evil is a growth industry." He laughed. His men grinned with him, looking over the assemblance with undisguised avarice. There were more than a few here for which the men could conjure all sorts of use for.

Jeremiah snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him, "That reminds me, the vault still has some residents in it, yes?"

"Yes. We sealed the vault behind us, there were perhaps a little over two hundred when we left."

"Good… good. Assemble a team and retrieve the rest. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky enough to find another magical in the group."

* * *

… _later that day_

 **POV: Susan**

From the discomfort in her head and neck, Susan suspected that she had been laying on the swing all night and well into the next day… judging by how the sun was slowly sinking to the west. Small wonder, she had performed quite a bit of magic in one go to build up the large manor house.

"We were nervous about waking you up, though had you slept any longer, we would have had to send for help from Salem." A voice spoke up.

Susan rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked for the origin of voice. The older woman who had helped her before was sitting across from her in a burnished wood rocking chair, the gentle creak as she rocked back and forth a soothing sound to her ears.

She noted the warm quilt wrapped around her and offered a small smile to the woman, "Thank you."

Despite the severity of her features, the woman's smiling nod seemed sincere enough. Susan felt herself warming to the woman.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know your name." Susan demurely stated.

"Vivian. Vivian Lancaster. I was a teacher in the vault. It was decided that I would be the 'Mayor' of Coastal Cottage."

"It's Vincentville actually." Susan put in, emphatically.

"Oh good, Coastal Cottage seemed a rather silly name for a settlement and I've heard good things about this fellow. I'm sorry I never got to meet him."

"He was a good man." Susan murmured, not trusting her voice beyond a whisper.

"Well, Ms. Bones, you got up just in time for dinner. We'll make a feast of it, a celebration of the founding of Vincentville." Vivian announced loudly enough for several others around her to hear.

Several children whooped with delight, as a feast usually meant sweets and what child didn't cheer at the idea of sweets?

Any further thought was effaced by the strident warbling tones that issued from the siren atop the walls. A militiaman was furiously turning the crank with one hand, while gesturing to the north with the other.

Susan joined the rushing mass of men and women taking up arms and hurrying up the walls to take their positions. Though they had only a small number of actual militiamen, every adult was willing and able to defend their new home. Vivian had apparently prioritized the installation of several machinegun turrets with nearly a half dozen of the devices with a clear line of sight to the advancing unknowns.

She could understand why the man had hauled so desperately on the siren's handle, as the group that approached from the northern road were not a pleasant looking group. From the heavy metal plates and cruel spikes, she could guess that these were Rust Devils. That they were accompanied by a motley collection of robots, including a massive tank-like sentry bot confirmed her thoughts.

"This is bad." Vivian muttered next to her, shrugging on a bandolier loaded with .308 rounds for her hunting rifle.

* * *

 **POV: Rust Devils**

Ben had cursed his luck when he and his 'Devils had come upon the vault and found the door ajar and the place hauntingly empty. Worse yet, the damned vault dwellers had overloaded their reactor and flooded the place with lethal amounts of radiation, rendering the place worthless even as scrap. Jeremiah would not be pleased at this… at all.

He counted it a small blessing when his men reported tracks heading south. Examining them himself, he felt a palpable relief when his eyes revealed that a goodly number of people had passed this way. That they didn't seem to cover their tracks at all seemed to verify their identity as clueless vault dwellers. They knew nothing of life on the surface… the thought raised a measure of alarm in him. It was likely that the survivors would stumble onto some danger and rob him of Jeremiah's spoils.

He worried over the imagined scenarios… a swarm of bloodbugs, a ravenous deathclaw or worse… another raider gang.

He hurried his men down the road that the dwellers clearly traversed, the occasional detritus from their exodus like silent witnesses pointing out the way for the stressed Rust Devils.

They began to find the remnants of those who didn't survive the trek several hours down the road. Though it was difficult to tell, it appeared the oldest resident seemed to have fallen in numbers as they journeyed. At first, the others made an attempt to bury their dead, but as the road of corpses continued, the bodies were left with less and less care given to their final rest.

Ben almost walked into the outstretched arm of Martha, the woman scowling at his distraction. He snarled back at her and nearly struck her before he noticed what had made them all stop. A new settlement surrounded by a concrete wall sat atop a bluff just west of the road.

"Hrmmm. The tracks continue past the settlement." He noted aloud, "But surely these people would know something about a mass of people streaming past their walls."

"You planning to walk up and ask them? I doubt they would be open to it." Martha noted, as the echoes of their siren reached them and settlers began manning the walls.

He scratched at his neck, "Nah, let's play with them a little and see what's what. If we have to, we can just move around it for now and keep following the tracks."

* * *

 **POV: Susan**

The raiders had apparently made up their mind, because bullets began to ping off the crenellated walls, making the defenders duck down for protection. Susan dared a peek and noted that they spread out a little, but didn't seem all that… energetic about it. She frowned at that, they seemed almost nonchalant.

The settlers returned fire sporadically, only interested in driving the aggressors away than actually killing anyone. The raiders weren't exactly putting their all into it either, as they hunkered down from the sides of the roads and only occasionally fired up at them. Even their robots were idle, though they appeared to not have any ranged weapons on them.

"What are they doing? Are they bored with this or something?" Vivian asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"I don't know." One of the militiamen responded, as he stared hard over the walls at the raiders, "Maybe they… oh shit!"

"What?!"

"They're bringing up one mean ass looking sentry bot! That thing looked brutal."

The faces of everyone visibly blanched as if their doom had been pronounced with the sighting of the sentry bot. Susan knew little of them, but if its sheer size was any indication, it was capable of a dealing a great deal of devastation. It was clearly a weapon of war and beyond the capability of most settlements to resist.

'Except ours.' Susan thought fiercely. She stood tall, heedless of the occasion sharp retort of rifle fire or the ping of a bullet striking the concrete near her. The other's hissed at her to get down, but she paid them no mind, trusting in her skills.

With a quick circular motion, Susan refreshed her shielding charm then focused her attention on the tank-like robot trundling up the road toward them, its gatling gun arms spooling up as it prepared to fire.

With a fierce cry, she jabbed her wand in the robot's direction and lifted the massive construct of steel and plastic with no more effort than lifting a glass of water. With a snarl that seemed so out of place on her pretty face, she slammed the robot down into the asphalt, the grey road cratering beneath the impact.

The robot seemed to shriek and groan as it attempted to right itself, its treaded feet whirring helplessly as they jutted out from its body in contorted angles. She lifted it again and again, slammed it into the road, deepening the crater and further damaging the massive machine. Sweat broke out on her pale brow as the robot was repeatedly lifted and slammed down until it was nothing more than a sparking mass of twisted metal. Something must have breached one of its fusion cores, because it erupted in a massive explosion before Susan finally stopped 'toying' with it.

The other settlers were wide-eyed in astonishment at the impressive display, looking back and forth between the slight, redheaded woman to the ruin she had made of the war machine.

* * *

 **POV: Rust Devils**

"Fuck me." Martha breathed, whistling low in appreciation.

"Later." Ben replied, deadpan. He was impressed too, but for a completely different reason. This event was clearly magical, and he knew that a report of magical activity from this settlement, especially so close to where other sightings had occurred, would spare him and his team from Jeremiah's wrath.

More than that, it was likely that the dark wizard may even reward them, for he prized information about his precious magicals more than anything else. He nodded to himself with satisfaction, motioning for his Rust Devils to pull back.

Martha looked at him quizzically, "We're not going to attack? What about the vault dwellers."

"Fuck them. Jeremiah will want to know that a wizard or witch is in the settlement as soon as possible. He will forgive the loss of the dwellers for information about a confirmed sighting."

Martha nodded, finding herself agreeing with the Lieutenant. She shrugged at the loss of potential spoils, but at least they'd be back early and there were always other ways to be amused.

* * *

 **POV: Vincentville**

The settlers breathed a collective sigh of relief as the raiders inexplicably… well, perhaps understandably, melted into the trees and abandoned any further thoughts of attacking their settlement.

A lookout called out, directing their attention to a converted fishing trolley filled to bursting with Salem Militia gliding through the air toward them. It was a curious looking contraption, with metal plates bolted onto the old fiberglass hull and raised in the front like an armored prow. It landed just outside the gates (there's was no room for it to land inside the settlement) and uniformed Salem militia boiled out with Barney Rook and Lilith in the lead.

Susan met them at the gate, answering their confused looks with a self-satisfied smile.

"What's up lass? We got the alert and headed here straight away."

Susan threw a thumb back over her shoulder at the still flaming wreck of the sentry bot, "A group of Rust Devils is my guess. They came down the road from the north and set their big boy here to attack. I put an end to that plan!"

"I can see that." Lilith replied, astonished that the shy, gentle girl she had known had changed so much. Some of the others had said that she was taking Vincent's death hard, but to have hardened so much in so short a time…

"Then what?" Barney pressed, sure that there had to have been more to this.

"Then they left." Susan shrugged, as if the fact they had just been attacked was barely worth talking about.

Barney's look of suspicion said enough, "I've heard of these Rust Devils from both Harry and the General of the Minutemen. Their far more than your typical raider gang. They're cruel, intelligent and most of all, fanatic. There's more to this than it appears, mark my words."

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione blinked at the sunlight streaming through the open window on the second floor of Taffington. After burying the Suttons, she and Jonathan had gotten a message to Preston via Lilith… though she cut off their talk rather abruptly, to get a team here to secure the site. Jonathan had actually prepared them a surprisingly tasty dinner of 'bloodbug steak', the fact that Hermione even entertained the idea of eating those disgusting things said much of her trust for him.

Her sleep was fitful, filled with images of how the Sutton's had suffered in their final moments. Only the reassuring presence of Jonathan had helped to waylay her nightmare fueled sleep. His arms went around her protectively as she awoke for the third time and she was immediately assuaged from the scenes that had so plagued her. She slept for the rest of the night, though she still woke groggy and a little cross.

Still, the sun rose bright and promised a clear day, so it placated her foul mood somewhat. They continued on their way to visit the Slog on a somewhat meandering course as he led them around the dangers he knew about.

At midday, Jonathan nodded up the road to indicate that they were nearing their destination, and a hopeful skip came into Hermione's step. She empathized with need to gain information from the settlers here, and to pitch and help if they needed it, but she was eager to be back home among her friends.

She smelled smoke and something else… something she couldn't quite identify. She paused to ask Jonathan about it, but the words died in her throat at the intense look in his eyes. He seemed nervous, unsettled, as though some premonition of danger was waving invisibly at him but he couldn't quite grasp it.

At the same moment, they both broke into a light jog and ate up the last few yards beneath their feet toward the settlement. As soon as it came into view, Hermione knew that they were too late to get any information from the people here.

She eased herself between a break in the chain link fence surrounding it and gagged at the almost physical smell which assailed her. She turned away with a faint cry and buried her face in Jonathan's chest, his face stony as he surveyed the horror before them.

With no particular rhyme or reason, the flayed bodies of nearly a dozen people hung, crucified, on black metal crosses. Ravens had descended on black wings to feast on the grotesque meal laid out for them, the raucous cawing of the birds piercing her ears with such volume that it nearly plucked at her pain threshold.

She didn't even jerk when she heard the weapon fire, Jonathan's pistol smoking as he fired several shots to frighten away the harbingers of death. They protested the interruption of their feast with angry caws, seemingly resistant to the notion of leaving. He began to shift his fire, raven bodies exploding into black billowing clouds of feathers before they finally heeded the need to flee.

"Who could have done this?" He muttered as silence finally fell, his voice sounding small and terribly mortal.

* * *

 **A/N:** _And another cliffhanger! It's almost as if I plan these chapters to end like this! Oh, wait. I do. Thank you guys for reviewing the last chapter, hopefully you enjoy this one as much as you did the last one. I realize I didn't have as much Harry in this section as I have in previous ones, but don't worry, we'll definitely be getting back to him in the next Chapter._


	14. Chapter 13: Right Behind You Baby

**Chapter 13: Right Behind You Baby – Roy Smith**

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

She wiped at the ticklish thread of sweat coursing down her forehead and was dismayed at the realization that she just wiped blood across her face. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, the judicious use of charms to filter the air of the overpowering smell of death paying dividends now. She bent at the waist and laid the poor soul alongside the others that they had taken down from the crosses. Though she had used magic to help, she felt it was somehow more respectful to lay them side by side by hand.

Jonathan grunted from nearby, pulling another victim down from his or her cross (some were so badly mauled, it was impossible to know what their gender may have been) and allowing the bloody corpse to fall over his shoulder. He had removed his armor for the task, and his shirt clung to him as it became sticky with gore and sweat. Hermione felt nausea stirring in the pit of her stomach and immediately turned away, looking up at the impassive blue sky.

She looked back in time to see him lay the body carefully by the others, standing up and stretching his back with a groan.

"You don't have to pretend this is hard work for my benefit." Hermione muttered, wondering how someone so talented in so many areas could be such an awful actor.

"Sorry." He murmured in response, "It's a habit I developed to… wait, did you hear that?"

He knew bloody well she didn't hear it and almost snapped at him, but caught herself. She was distraught and out of sorts with what had happened here, and it was clearly affecting her mood. She took a deep breath and kept quiet.

"I thought I heard something from building there… like a cough." He provided, gesturing in the direction of the old pool house.

Taking his concern seriously was always a good idea, so Hermione brandished her wand, "Homenum Revelio."

She gasped, "There are… there are people hiding in the building. To the left, behind some kind of bathroom stall and a mattress."

"They wouldn't be hiding if they were the aggressors… maybe they're survivors?" Jonathan mused, as he moved slowly toward the building.

Hermione jogged to catch up and fell in alongside, "If they are survivors, they'll likely be a bit barmy from whatever happened here. Be sensitive."

Jonathan nodded, and moved ahead of her a little and drew his sidearm, a weathered and heavily modified 10mm pistol. He held it loosely at his side so as to not unduly alarm anyone, and walked softly into what appeared to have once been a shower/restroom, but was now a sort of common billeting area. He looked over at her and nodded when Hermione pointed out the particular stall. She could see the top of a mattress leaning up on its side against the wall inside the stall.

Jonathan knocked on the stall door softly and called out gently, "Hello? Are you alright in there?"

She heard a gasp and the rustling of clothing, "It's alright. My name is Hermione Granger, I'm from Salem. The man with me is the General of the Minutemen, we're here to help."

A harshly whispered and heated argument issued from the stall against the backdrop of a crying child. Finally, one side prevailed over the other and the mattress began to move and a trio of ghouls crawled out from under the stall.

Hermione bent and helped the woman to her feet, the tattered remnants of the rags she wore barely able to maintain her modesty. She seemed in a daze and let herself be led to the side so that Jonathan could help the man that followed.

Though hard to tell, Hermione guessed that the man was 'an older gentleman', from the way he moved and spoke. His voice was just as raspy as any other ghoul she had encountered, but it seemed to have a wispy quality to it, as if his voice was thin from having been used for countless years.

The last to emerge was a child, which Hermione would guess at around 10 years of age. Again, it was difficult to tell with ghouls and with so few children in general, next to nothing was known about how a child developed as a ghoul. Regardless, here was a little girl who needed help.

Hermione took the tentative hand and smiled as kindly as she could, hoping to reassure the young girl. Once she stood up, she remained bashful but didn't let go of Hermione's hand, which gave her hope that maybe the adults shielded her from the atrocities occurring in the settlement.

Whispering under her breath surreptitiously, Hermione conjured a minor charm that helped calm the nerves and lent an aura of peace to those who fell under it. Both adult ghouls visibly relaxed and allowed themselves to be led to the sofas in the main room. Jonathan was considerate enough to make sure that the three survivors' backs were to the worst of the devastation.

Once they settled in, Jonathan announced that he would prepare some food.

"I'll stay with them." Hermione answered, smiling as he passed and squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

Hermione knew that a way to get through to adults who have been traumatized was to entertain their child. Interacting with a child almost always grabbed at parental instincts and there was a magic of its own in making a child laugh. She smiled a little at a tiny voice which sounded suspiciously like Ron teasing her for her famous tagline, 'I read it in a book once.'

Jonathan returned from the cook fire balancing several steaming bowls in his arms. Though it took some doing, Hermione had finally managed to make the girl smile, then giggle. She looked up at Jonathan and grinned at her success. He smiled back down at her and started passing the bowls around.

They ate in companionable silence, though their guests seemed to only pick at their food out of politeness.

"Um, pardon me for asking, but is something wrong with the stew?" Jonathan asked, his concern partly for their condition and partly for his pride at his culinary skill.

"No. It's wonderful." Daisy replied.

"Ghouls don't need to eat as much as you smoothskins do. Plus… well, I just don't have much of an appetite." Arlen admitted, the older male gentleman murmuring into his bowl.

"I think it's great." Candace added, her voice muffled around the mouthfuls of stew she was shoveling into her mouth at a prodigious rate.

"Well, ghoul kids are an exception to the 'not eating much rule'." Daisy added with a smile.

"I hate to broach the subject, but I was wondering if you could tell us what happened here?" Jonathan began hesitantly.

Daisy shared a look with Arlen, who nodded and motioned for her to take Candace from the room.

"Come on, honey. We can finish up over there while they talk."

"But I want to hear!" Candace protested.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Daisy gently coaxed the girl from the room. Arlen waited until they were out of earshot before fixing the two of them with a somber expression.

"It was late last night. A caravan guarded by Minutemen came by and picked up some of our produce on their way to Greentop. We traded for a turret and some parts, I even got a few to finish up some toys I had been working on. They'd moved on… maybe two hours? Everyone was getting ready to bed down except for Wiseman. He wanted to get the turret assembled and installed on the roof of this building. He was tinkering with it when we heard the most ungodly screeching."

He paused, closing his eyes at the terrible memory replaying in his mind.

"They swept through here, a nightmare of flesh and steel, led by this horrifying creature… a man whose arms and legs had been replaced by robotic limbs. The others were mostly machine, but with the faces of people attached to their heads somehow. They screamed as if in pain even as they tore Wiseman apart. We fought back, but we're not a military, our bullets barely seemed to affect them. Jones… he grabbed Candace and put her in my arms, told me to run, to hide. To my shame… I did."

"You saved her." Hermione stated firmly, placing a hand on his knee.

"You're kind to say so, but Daisy could have taken her. I was just a scared old man." Tears began to run down his face and it nearly broke Hermione's heart to see him so broken.

He collected himself after a moment, "They slaughtered the others quickly and painfully. Once the fighting died down, I could hear them raising our friends up onto those racks. For a while it got very quiet, we were too afraid to come out in case they were waiting for us. We hadn't move from that spot until you folks came along."

"Thank you, Arlen." Jonathan said quietly. "They won't get away with this."

"What are we going to do now?" Arlen wailed.

Jonathan stood up then, every inch the soldier, "We are going to finish taking care of the others," he began, "and then we are going to see you folks safely up to Greentop. Finally, we're going to hunt the bastards that did this and put them down."

He gave Hermione an apologetic look, knowing that this would delay their trip to Salem, but she shook it off with a smile and patted him on the arm. His relief was palpable at her acceptance. For her part, she understood perfectly, but was quietly pleased that he held a measure of distress at the thought of disappointing her. Honestly, it would have disappointed her more had he not suggested helping these people.

Arlen joined Daisy and Candace in packing up what items they needed while Hermione and Jonathan finished up outside. As they worked, Hermione wondered aloud which group could have been responsible for this… musing that perhaps it was the Rust Devils.

"It's different from how we've seen them operate before." Jonathan answered, playing devil's advocate for a moment, "But then again, no other group has shown that same expertise with robotics except the Mechanist, and surely Isabelle wouldn't do this."

"No, Isabelle wanted to help. She is too guilt-ridden over the deaths she's already caused to even dare to create something like this. And if she had, you know she'd have told us about these horrible things."

"Yeah, you're likely correct about the Rust Devils being involved, but why would Jeremiah feel the need to slaughter a group of ghouls way out here? They don't have any technology worth this kind of effort and unless I'm missing something, they aren't a wand waving bunch of magicals."

Hermione huffed, "Does a dark wizard really need a reason?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, but not knowing why is making me nervous beyond belief. I can't help but think there's something more sinister behind his actions than simple cackling malevolence."

With her magic, Hermione dug a row of graves and used loose stones scattered in the area as impromptu grave markers. Jonathan carefully laid each of them inside while Arlen, having finished packing, came out to speak a few words over his friends.

Though it was hard for him, he gave Hermione their names so that she could carve them into the grave markers, then filled in the graves with the mounds of earth her magic had removed. They stood in solemn silence for a moment before Jonathan urged Arlen to go back inside and get some rest. It was too late to get started now and that he imagined a night's rest would do more to help them than even his vaunted cooking skills.

Hermione was quietly relieved, she was exhausted herself, though she was sapped more of emotional energy than physical.

She awoke with a start, fumbling blindly in the oppressive darkness until her hand closed over her wand. It reassured her, though it was not what she had been scrambling for. Sitting up, she let her eyes adjust and began to look around for what she had been reaching for, and saw his silhouette outlined against the moonlight as he sat atop the remains of a wooden barricade looking out over the east.

His posture shifted as she climbed up to join him, sitting closely so as to share his warmth in the unusually chilly predawn air. He put an arm around her and drew her closer still.

"Have you slept?" She murmured, somehow reticent at disturbing the eerie quiet.

"No. But don't worry," he answered quickly, forestalling her budding argument, "I don't need as much sleep and can go far longer without it."

She harrumphed, but fell silent, deciding to let it go this time and just enjoy the quiet moment.

It was subtle, but the sky began to lighten, an aura of brighter blues reaching up to combat the black of night. The tree line began to take shape, blackened fingers reaching up as if to call back the retreating darkness. The sun broke free and let molten gold spill across the horizon, as if once unfettered, it was eager to spread its warmth and light to dispel the shadows.

Hermione welcomed it, and the company, as they watched the glory of a new day unfold before them.

It ended far too soon, for they knew that enough time had passed that decreased their chances of tracking down the butchers who had nearly wiped out an entire settlement. They woke the others and helped them gather up their meager baggage.

Hermione became startled when Jonathan suddenly stiffened ahead of her, the four trailing him nearly walking into his back at his sudden halt. He held up a hand and peered out from the doorway he had been about to exit, bending his head as if trying to focus on some distant sound.

"Arlen, take Daisy and Candace back inside." He hissed, a foreboding sense of alarm surging through all of them like an electrical shock at his terse command.

Candace began to wail as Daisy took her hand and turned to head back inside.

Jonathan, pressed a sawed-off shotgun into Arlen's hand and called out to Daisy. When she stopped to look, he leaned over and presented the hilt of a modified 10mm pistol and nodded grimly when she took it without hesitation.

Hermione finally heard what had so alarmed Jonathan, a raucous echo of guttural voices that could only have come from a one source… super mutants.

She took a deep breath to steel herself and stood resolutely at Jonathan's side. He became even more agitated, if that were possible, and motioned with his chin to the south. Hermione tore her eyes away from the intense look in his blue eyes and looked south, her heart falling as she saw another group heading their way.

From their heavy metal plated armor and the flame weapons they carried, these were clearly Forged from Saugus Ironworks, perhaps coming to investigate the slaughter of the Slog.

"When it rains, it pours." Jonathan muttered, racking the action on his combat rifle.

Hermione gulped and tightened her grip on her wand, wishing that Harry were there.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

He couldn't quite control the tremble in his arm as he pointed his wand at the beautiful woman. Morgan Le Fay! It was a name right out of myth, one that he had heard of even when he lived life as an ignorant muggle. His brain didn't quite want to believe it, though his heart told him the inescapable truth did indeed stand before him. What could he do against a creature that had literally stepped from the pages of history? If but a kernel of what he had read and heard about her were true, than facing her would make his conflict with Voldemort seem a walk in the park.

She sighed and looked into his eyes with a sad smile. He didn't know how, but suddenly she was touching him, gently lowering the hand that held his wand until it pointed at the ground. She was real, her hand was warm and the perfume of her scent wafted around him like a promise of dreams fulfilled.

'Is she bewitching me?' He thought, as he fought to regain some sense of himself.

"I'm not quite the villain you seem to believe me to be, Mr. Potter." She whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

Harry cleared his throat and stood tall, stepping back and presenting his wand once more. He had found his courage even through the nearly overwhelming doubt and stood defiant against this woman of darkness.

"Alright. Then tell me who you are, if not the woman written of in stories and myths."

"You are a rare person, Mr. Potter. No one else has ever asked me for my point of view in all the years that I was hunted by the Wizengamot."

He hardened his eyes and indicated with the barest of nods that he was listening.

"I suppose I should begin with Merlin."

Harry found himself fascinated as she began to tell him of her time and of Merlin himself. He had to remind himself to keep his wand raised as he listened.

It was a chaotic time in Britain's history, with competing tribes and invaders from across the seas all fighting among each other for the spoils of land. The Fey, a wild and varied assemblage of creatures watched warily as men fought against each other, for the moment the battles were done, the raping of the land began.

The Sidhe were especially militant in their opposition to the human warlords, contesting them at every turn. Though mighty in their magic, the humans were beyond counting and came again and again with sword and axe and cruel intentions.

Merlin was fascinated by them… intrigued to the point of madness as Morgan believed. She disagreed with him and thought that his energy would be better spent safeguarding the realms of magic from their encroachment.

"I had no qualms about slaying any man who came into our realm, but I never sought them out. I didn't wish to kill them for the sin of simply being. I only wished to keep my family safe."

Merlin's fascination reached its nadir when he met the child Arthur, the misbegotten son of a powerful warlord named Uther Pendragon. He believed that Arthur was the one who could bring peace to the land, to forge law from chaos and enable men and magical to live in harmony.

"There were times that one couldn't tell where Arthur ended and Merlin began, so thick were they in each other's company. After a time though, I too began to see a little of the hope that Merlin carried for the boy. I began to believe that the young man, under Merlin's tutelage, could indeed grow into a just and wise king who could bridge the gap between muggle and magical."

Harry had lost all pretense of keeping his wand pointed at the witch as she continued.

"And for a time, it seems that he would. He united the warring tribes, made peace with theSidhe, he did everything that Merlin believed that he could."

But there were those who did not easily forgive or forget. For Morgan had a sister, who shared a mother with the once and future king, Arthur. Morgause could not let go of her prejudices and did not distinguish between the muggles that despoiled her land and those who sought to end the strife. She blamed Arthur for the theft of her birthright, blamed him for being the son favored by fate to have the shining kingdom she thought was hers by right.

"Merlin. He… was special to me." She whispered, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "I loved him then… I love him still."

But his heart would soon belong to another… the bitch Nimue, a student who would steal his heart but never requite his love.

Despite the tension there was peace, for a time. The land rejoiced in Arthur's kingship and even the fairy realm was a shining reflection of the bright times. But a dark shadow festered in the hearts of some… none more so than Morgause. She bore a child from Arthur's seed and named him Mordred and turned him into the instrument of her vengeance.

She went among the others, many of whom that had not forgotten the sins of muggles just a single generation ago. Morgan did not agree with her, but was not willing to raise a hand against her own blood. She did convince many of the Fey that were uncertain of the trust Merlin had put into Arthur and how his reign had benefited both them and the muggles.

"It was at Camlann that Merlin's heart was broken and the dream of a shared world shattered. Mordred led rebellious nobles and Morgause's followers against Arthur's army. Merlin was delayed by Nimue, who had thrown in with Morgause and conspired to keep the old druid away. And so Merlin arrived too late to save him."

"It was a broken wizard that bore his dear Arthur to us. I was one of the three who received him, and saw that he was likened unto death, for his wound would have slain any mere mortal. We placed him in a barge and sailed with him to Avalon, where he abides still in a healing sleep, waiting for the world to at last be ready for him."

Merlin told the full tale to Taliesin the bard. But the man either forgot that there were two sisters or that the tale needed more of a dramatic turn, for he spread the story of Morgan's betrayal of Arthur. And conveniently made no mention of Morgause.

"Merlin would have set the story straight, he would have stood with me… he should have. But he was gone. To this day I know not where… though I suspect Nimue had a hand in his disappearance."

The surviving knights did not possess Arthur's temperance or wisdom and fought each other and against the magicals, regardless of their allegiance. It was as if all of Arthur's work had been undone in a blink. "Only a handful of the very best of them refrained, Galahad… Percival. But they were mere motes against the sandstorm."

The years that passed were not kind as darkness fell onto Britain. Morgan le Fay went into hiding, sealing off the Fey realm and help others hide from the grief maddened muggles, who blamed them for their king's death.

"Finally, hope again was reborn, this time with the Wizengamot. A conclave of wizards and witches who banded together in secret to keep our world separate from the world of the muggles. I thought that my exile was at last done, that I could return and live with others of our kind."

"I had hopes… we all did, that once those wizards and witches came together and decided to hide our world from the muggles, that I would get a reprieve… but it was not to be. They believed Taliesin's tale and even laid the fate of the missing Merlin at my feet. They hounded me for years. I stayed one step ahead of them until finally fleeing across the sea to the Americas. But after a century of peace, the Magical Congress of America caught up with me and working with the Ministry of Magic, buried me in a timeless cave not far from Ilvermorny."

Somehow the time lock she had been trapped in for centuries failed… and she emerged from her prison to this. Her story ended, she turned away from him and for a moment, Harry could see the weight of centuries weighing on the witch.

Harry's mouth hung open in shock at the story. So much of it made sense, and despite his own experience fighting against the insidiousness of those who practiced the dark arts, he found that he believed her.

"It may have taken the end of the world, but you can come home Morgan." Harry began, his voice gentle and prompting a curious look from the ancient Fey.

"It maybe isn't the wondrous place of Old world England, but you'd be welcome there. There are other magicals and we live in peace working together with muggles to build something worthy in the ruins."

Harry's words seem to lighten the burden she bore, as she stood up straight and was again the creature of legend, the mystical Morgan le Fey.

"I accept your offer, Mr. Potter. I assume that the offer is for my companions as well?"

"Of course! In fact, we had been looking for Cait. We had information that she was one of us and we wanted to invite her to make a home as well."

"Allow me to introduce the others then."

She first introduced the silent mountain of metal, a man she had come to call Tacitus. He was among the first she had met upon exiting her prison, a group of raiders who did not know with whom they were dealing. She obliviated him and inadvertently damaged his mind more than she had intended, but she didn't have a wand at the time and so was less precise than she would have liked.

Harry could understand her pragmatism and assured her that he held no judgement against her for her treatment of the former raider. Besides, he was well-treated now despite the sins of his past.

Next she introduced her driver, a former farmer named Benjamin Walsh.

"I found them at a small farmstead called Somerville, far to the south. They gave me hospitality and for that had my thanks. But I discovered that his children were magicals, despite Mr. Walsh himself being a muggle. He admitted to me that his wife was a witch, though she had disappeared years ago. I asked them to accompany me in seeking out a place for us."

Lastly, she introduced Cait herself, the filthy mouthed and filthy minded red-head. She seemed to take the knowledge that she was a witch with a shrug, apparently not overly caring one way or another. She was unusually aggressive in her demeanor and Harry couldn't help but be soured against the woman for it.

Morgan confided in him that Cait had a weakness for putting poisons in her body; Harry realized that Cait was a drug addict.

"Now, Mr. Potter. If you could assist me please, I think we should set this place right, don't you?"

Harry flashed her his famous grin and together they raised their wands and worked their magic on the devastated farm.

Blake, Connie and Lucy gushed with appreciation at Harry and Morgan's assistance. The farm was fully restored and Harry had even learned some ancient magic that could heal wounds and replenish vitality.

Her magic was somehow different from the magic he knew… it was much wilder and unfettered, much less structured than modern magic. For her part, she seemed fascinated by how much the understanding of magic had grown in her time away, especially by how much modern magicals relied so heavily on wands to bring them an impressive degree of precision. They had used wands a little in her time, but did not rely on them, as they were relatively new.

"You can lead the way, Mr. Potter." She insisted on calling him that, despite his assurance that 'Harry' was good enough.

Harry wrestled with his embarrassment for a moment before bringing forth his shattered broom, sighing with chagrin at being so land-bound.

Morgan smiled at him, "I think I have something you would like, Mr. Potter. Something you'd like very much."

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

It was apparent from the way the super mutants stopped at the edge of the tree line and the dramatic pause from the Forged tromping along the road that the groups had spotted them… and each other. The tension was palpable as each of the three groups looked from one point to another.

Not being known for their forbearance or patience, the super mutants were the first to break the tension with a bellicose roar.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" One shouted, hefting a large piece of metal which had been fashioned into a crude cleaver.

Not to be outdone, the fanatic Forged shouted their own war cries and rushed forward, a power armored titan with a flamer leading the way.

Never one to wait to be told, Jonathan levelled his rifle and fired several rounds into the lead super mutant, the beast's fat lips flapping as he howled and fell clutching his stomach. The other green skinned monstrosities howled in exuberance, delighting that they had stumbled into a good fight. Looking to head them off, Jonathan leapt down from the ruined barricade and ran at them, glancing back at Hermione as he flew.

There was trust in his eyes, and it filled her heart with determination as she turned to face the oncoming Forged. She needed to size them up first, so red bolts of energy began to fly forth from her wand and sent the pack of glorified raiders sprawling.

Reaching the wounded super mutant, Jonathan bent low and grabbed its trailing leg, his own leg muscles protesting as he lifted with every ounce of his strength and bore the massive creature off the ground. He planted his left foot and pivoted on his right, swinging the shrieking creature off his shoulder and letting the centrifugal force throw its arms and upper body out wide. He completed his arc and threw the super mutant directly at the others, sending the entire lot dancing aside with one unfortunate greenskin getting clobbered by his erstwhile brother.

Instead of getting angry or dismayed, the display seemed to incite the remaining super mutants with a sense of barely contained excitement.

"Now we got a real fight!" One of them shouted, while the others agreed with various hoots and howls.

Hermione fell back from the edge of the barricade as it became wreathed in flame. She was caught by surprise at how far the flamer could reach and got neatly singed before raising a shield and taking cover. She was more embarrassed than hurt, however, feeling somewhat abashed that Jonathan's confidence in her led her to become overconfident. She stood up and sought to rectify that shortcoming, throwing her wand out and shoving the flaming wreck of the barricade directly at the power armored raider.

He made as if to turn or leap aside, but was not nearly nimble enough to pull off any kind of fancy dodge before hundreds of pounds of flaming wreckage crashed down onto him. She doubted that it would kill him, but it would certainly keep him occupied for now.

"You really shouldn't play with fire!" She shouted, raising her wand at the others moving around the bonfire now crackling in the middle of the road.

Summoning up her strength, she cajoled the dark water from the Danvers River nearby, which rose up like a leviathan from the deeps. The Forged halted in their charge and stood slack jawed at the towering water serpent undulating high above them. They took a step back, a meager move made too late for them. Hermione swept down with her wand and the column of roaring water flowed at her command, lashing the Forged with tremendous force. Two of them were knocked up into the sky and fell in a heap several yards away while the rest were slammed into the road where they stood, their resistance pitiful and meaningless against the raging torrent.

Hermione kept up the pressure, her upper body becoming soaked from the errant spray as she directed the thrashing serpent left to right along the road, pummeling the helpless raiders beneath tons of water. Her strength waning, she let go of the water, allowing the water to plunge onto the roadway and washing it clean of centuries' worth of detritus.

As she fought for breath, she eyed the raiders laying insensate in the road with a critical eye, mentally daring them to get up.

Of the eight that had attacked, only two managed to regain their feet. Seeing the waxy complexions of their drowned companions, they chose the better part of valor and hastily fled back in the direction of Saugus.

With a strident bark followed by a drawn out howl of pain, Hermione was reminded that Jonathan was still engaged.

Compelling her legs to move, she ran with all her might up to the tree line opposite the settlement and clambered up the short incline. Her heart pounding, she noted the bodies of super mutants as she moved closer to the sounds of the continuing battle.

Standing on the back of a vanquished super mutant, Jonathan held off the remaining three with nothing but a combat knife and a stern expression. Blood ran freely from numerous wounds all over his body as his foes menaced him with spiked boards. His movements were slow and sluggish, fatigue from blood loss obviously impeding his defense as a board crashed in against his back. It stuck fast only to be jerked free by a gleeful super mutant as Jonathan roared in pain, blood spraying from the numerous holes punched into the flesh of his back.

Hermione nearly came undone at the sight, though the man acquitted himself well by punishing the one who had struck him, jamming his knife hilt deep into the mutants flapping dewlap, the creature standing up onto his toes as Jonathan growled as he forced the knife in deeper. The creature's eyes crossed weirdly and he fell nerveless and nearly clobbered Jonathan as he fell.

Hermione screamed as a board streaked in and clouted him on the head, knocking his head back and sending him reeling. In an odd twist of fate, the way he fell presented Hermione with a perfect line of sight which she used to blast a basketball sized hole into the offending super mutant.

The final super mutant blinked stupidly at her as his companion fell, steam rising from the bloody crater.

"Fun time's over." The mutant lamented, before his head exploded under Hermione's wrath.

Her anger spent, she rushed to a horribly bloody Jonathan and cradled his head in her lap, crying with panic at not knowing which of the many wounds he suffered from to attend to first.

She felt his hand close on hers and looked down into his smiling face.

"My hero." He murmured, before closing his eyes.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry couldn't suppress the childish glee that was plastered over his face as his new broom snatched the breath from him. His face was being lashed by stinging droplets as a gentle autumn rain fell, though it felt wonderful to him. He was skybound yet again, and with a new Firebolt no less! He had been more than merely gobsmacked to enter Morgan's traveling trunk. But to find a menagerie inside tended to by creatures he had only heard of, the irascible pukwudgies! She had liberated an absolute treasure trove of materials, books, potion ingredients, plants, animals and best of all wands and brooms! The crown jewel of the cupboard that held nearly a score of the remarkable collection was the Firebolt that Harry nearly wept to hold again.

She smiled indulgently at his questioning look, assuring him that broom flying was not something she had ever taken to, calling it a modern indulgence. Harry was interested to learn that brooms weren't even invented until sometime in the early 900's, almost 400 years after Morgan took Arthur's body to Avalon.

His mood darkened as he considered the implications of Morgan liberating such treasure from the ruins of Ilvermorny. Surely Hogwarts might have some intact chamber, perhaps buried deep beneath the earth, waiting for some enterprising witch or wizard to discover it? The ghosts had assured him that no such chamber existed, and they had spent some years searching for it. But even so, what if they had missed it? Harry reasoned that ghosts were unable to affect major change in the physical world and were certainly unable to enact magic. Perhaps something still yet remained, hidden behind magical safeguards or a veil of disillusionment?

Logically, he knew he shouldn't accept blame. But it was one of the many things that muggles and magicals had in common, that their passions often overruled their reason. Maybe after everything became settled here, he could lead an expedition back home and sift through the wreckage of their old school? If nothing else, they could bring back some of its stone, use them in the construction of a new Hogwarts. So many dreams… Harry sighed as he spiraled in a gentle glide.

He spotted the coach trundling next to the rail tracks leading south toward Greygarden. They had just passed the towering Corvega factory where watchmen in dark blue overcoats and laser muskets looked out over the Commonwealth. Harry returned the wave from one of the Minutemen.

He smiled a little at that, what had he just been thinking about dreams? Jonathan had thought that the factory could be put to rights, not to build cars as it did during the days before the Great War, but perhaps household goods that people could really use.

He floated downward a little further and flew alongside the coach at a sedate pace, Ben Walsh in the driver's seat offering a smile and a tip of his hat. Harry returned the salute and the smile, thankful that their journey from Abernathy had been uneventful thus far, again, a testament to the surging might of the Minutemen. He felt a stab of worry over that, especially in light of the history that Morgan had provided. He didn't fear Jonathan's intentions, well… perhaps except as they concerned a certain mutual witch friend of theirs, but he was honorable and compassionate. But he wouldn't be in charge forever and muggles always seem to turn the best intentions into horrifying realities.

He frowned in self-reflection, no… not just muggles he corrected, remembering the Ministry under corrupt or ineffective Ministers like Cornelius Fudge, Rufus Scrimgeour and Pius Thicknesse.

Shaking his head of the unproductive thoughts intruding on his concentration, he sped up and left the coach behind as he flew onward to Greygarden. He landed with a flourish and had to grin at the cheerful greetings from the panoply of robots working on the mutfruit orchard.

His grin faded a little when he fell under the shadow of the local muscle, an impressively large and powerful sentry-bot. It trundled up to him, stirring up a cloud of brown dust in its wake and beeped quite rudely at him. He was bathed with a crimson light for a moment when a triumphant ding sounded somewhere from the machine's body. The light flashed green once and the scan terminated.

"Subject identified: Harry Potter, visiting dignitary. Full VIP access. Welcome, sir. Please enjoy your visit."

Without waiting for a reply, it turned 180 degrees and moved off to continue its patrol. Harry let out a breath and adjusted his glasses, grateful that he didn't have to turn the Minutemen's nice big toy into a paperweight.

"Don't mind him, it's the basic programming package Ms. Cruz puts on them. She is a bit paranoid about robots going haywire, so she has them check everyone before they are authorized to engage."

Harry looked up at the garrison building built adjacent to the overpass and saw the speaker, a middle-aged man in Minuteman regalia standing one floor up on a ledge overlooking the orchard.

"Thanks. Any chance I could borrow one of your owls? I have a message I need sent back to Salem."

The man didn't hesitate for moment, "Of course! Anything for the famous Harry Potter! It's no secret that you and your magical folks are a big part of how life is getting a little bit better every day! Come on in and take the lift up to the 4th floor. That's where the rookery is."

Harry waved in thanks and walked into the garrison, pausing to exchange greetings with another pair of militia who hailed him with genuine affection. Harry felt good, if somewhat confused, by the good will from these men and women. His people and Jonathan's had worked well together, that much was true.

He thought it over while he rode the lift to the 4th floor, the ride surprisingly smooth. He stepped off to the man who had greeted him earlier, a wide smile on his lined face.

"Let me say, it is a true pleasure to meet you sir, a true pleasure indeed!" Harry thought the man was going to pump his arm right out of his shoulder.

"Um… thanks?"

The man shook his head, "I'll have to tell my wife about this when I rotate back to Starlight. She'll be thrilled. Just thrilled. Maybe not too thrilled with me though… she'll insist I didn't do enough to thank you. If only I could…"

"Wait." Harry was thoroughly confused at this point and was beginning to lose his patience, "What are you talking about?"

The man blinked at him as if Harry was the one who was bonkers, "You saved my boy. Back at Starlight. You and the others, swooped in like avenging angels on those brooms of yours. Blasted those Gunners right out of the sky! He had been hit and was laying in that field all alone, bleeding and scared. He told me that you had stood over him, flashing that wand of yours to keep the Gunners down while the other Minutemen could get to him and get him help. Then he tells me that he's in love with a silvery angel, the one who healed him in the infirmary. Luna, I think he said her name was."

Harry wracked his brain. That fight was a blur to him now, his mind actually partitioning off parts of it due to the pain from losing Vincent and how much that had affected Susan. He honestly didn't remember doing what the man was telling him, but he couldn't confess that to him, it'd surely upset or offend him to think that his son wasn't important enough to remember.

"Sorry. I didn't know what your connection to it was. Seems like forever ago." Harry apologized, though the man merely smiled and waved away his concern.

"No worries, Mr. Potter sir! It was a crazy day at that. But it taught us three important lessons. That we have magnificent friends in you lot from Salem, that the Gunners aren't as unbeatable as we thought, and that our General would charge in guns blazing for any of us. My god, I still shiver thinking about seeing that man in action. I've never seen the like. Anyway, listen to me carrying on when you got things to do! Here are the owls."

He walked Harry over to a small section along the wall with a series of cupboards within which each owl rested. Though they were mechanical devices empowered by magic, they had a bit of personality, and were seemingly treated as such, from the comforts the garrison had provided them with. Each owl had its own bedding and a number of trinkets decorated each stall.

"The pretty yellow one here." The man indicated, the aforementioned owl preening at the flattery, "She's the one which makes the Salem run. Gotten good at it too, makes the flight in record time!"

"Thanks, could I?" Harry nodded in the direction of the desk, his gestures hopefully implying strongly enough that he would appreciate some privacy.

"Say no more!" The man replied, his hands held up as if in surrender, "I'll leave you to it."

He pointed to a non-descript wooden door in the wall adjacent to the coop, "Just through that door there is a walkway that leads over onto the overpass. There's an old bus there that's been turned into a private room that we keep for important visitors such as yourself. It's yours for as long as you're here."

The man left before Harry could offer any protest over the VIP treatment he was getting, Harry's sputtered objections only reaching the top of the man's head as he rode the lift down.

He shrugged after a moment, after all, he would need a quiet place for what he was going to do after sending this message.

He greeted the owl and invited her to hop onto his arm. She seemed pleased and cooed softly at him. He sat at the desk and quickly found a stack of paper and a pen. He wrote a quick message for Lilith, asking her to please send him the two way mirror. He really needed to get over any misgivings he had carrying the device and use it for what it was intended for. He paused for a moment, considering what else to say regarding the amazing things that had happened in the last few hours and decided on simply saying that he was bringing some very important people with him when he returned.

He carefully rolled the paper into a tube and let the owl take hold of it. The paper shimmered for a moment and disappeared (Harry knew that the owl carried the paper deep inside its own body, and that if captured, the paper would be destroyed along with the owl.) It flapped exuberantly, as if overjoyed to have a job to do before hooting loudly and shooting out of the large balcony window, taking wing to the northeast.

Harry watched it for a time, until it was a mere speck against the blue sky. He rode the lift back down to the ground floor and walked through the settlement until he reached the rail tracks. His timing was impeccable, as the Morgan's coach clattered to a stop right next to him, the driver even pulling back on the reigns dramatically, as if the magical beasts needed anything more than a verbal command to halt.

Harry peered inside the carriage and first laid eyes on the droopy eyed youngsters, the children sedated by the gentle rocking of the coach and by the likely extremely boring time of it they were having sitting quietly with nothing to do. They stirred a little at the stop and looked up at him, to which he effected the goofiest face he could conjure.

From the giggles, clearly his face was hilarious. He grinned at the minor victory and pulled out his wand, the children's eyes glowing in anticipation as he showed it to them. He waved it and murmured under his breath, channeling some of the whimsy his mother was known for and conjured a pair of tiny dragons. The children held their breath as he passed one each to them, the tiny ephemeral creatures clinging to their little hands with tiny claws. His smile grew at their wonder, and as he looked up into Morgan's face, he found its mirror in her own expression. Even Cait looked intrigued, though once she noticed Harry's gaze, she quickly replaced her expression with one of tired annoyance.

"This settlement is called Graygarden. It was an experiment by a roboticist named Edward Gray. He thought that he could program robots well enough so that they could operate by themselves for a long period of time. I guess you could say that he was rather brilliant, two centuries later and these bots are still working." Harry explained.

"Impressive what muggles can accomplish, isn't it?" Morgan replied, though he could tell that it was more out of politeness.

"Anyway, there is a road ahead, we'll be heading north into Cambridge. It is heavily infested by feral ghouls." At her blank look, he explained further, "Some people, when exposed to enormous amounts of radiation, suffered change for it, becoming something resembling a walking corpse. Many of the ones I've met were, aside from their condition, completely normal and rational beings. But some, for a reason I never discovered, turn feral and violent. They will assuredly assault us."

"What do you suggest?" Morgan asked.

"A disillusionment charm on the coach should do the trick." Harry mused aloud, "As long as we're quiet and move through it quickly, we can avoid any nastiness."

"A place like that does sound dangerous, why has this state been allowed to continue? Is there no local constabulary?"

"Jonathan is the General of the Minutemen. They are a volunteer militia who protect settlements and patrol the roads in the Northwest. He had promised to look into the Cambridge situation but clearly hasn't found the time to do so."

"Jonathan? Sounds like you know him personally."

Harry nodded, "I do. He's a muggle, but one of most extraordinary men I've ever known. He's a good friend, honorable and humble. Not to mention one heck of a soldier." He refrained from going into it any further, as Jonathan's past as a specifically bred super soldier was not his to share.

"Hast thou returned at last, Galahad?" She whispered.

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

"It's nothing." She waved away the question. She looked away, her gaze going out the window on the other side of the carriage, looking out into her past perhaps.

"Is he good-looking? He sounds like the sort of man I wouldn't mind wrestling with, if you take me meaning." Cait put in lasciviously.

Harry gaped at the audacious woman and mumbled noncommittedly. She laughed and Harry blushed when he realized that she was having him on. He shook his head at the temperamental (and perhaps a little crazy) Irish woman and stood up, turning to address Benjamin.

"Turn right up the road here, but stop when you reach Cambridge. You'll know it from the brick buildings. Morgan and I will have to use magic to hide the coach before we go in. The place is pretty heavily infested by ferals… so I need you to keep your head and drive carefully."

The man gulped, turning a little pale, but nodded at Harry's instructions. Waiting to see if anything else was forthcoming, he took up the reigns and got the carriage moving again while Harry stepped off and took up his broom.

He watched for a moment and considered the coaches pace and how long it would take for him to fly to the edge of the township. Yeah, he nodded to himself, he has time.

He flew up to the overpass and spotted the bus turned apartment that the Minuteman had told him of. He landed softly and walked up to the bus, which had a small fence placed around it like a picture out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Harry chuckled at the sight and walked up the stairs into the bus, and did a double take at the state of the place. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that a witch or wizard had done this place over, the pre-war furnishings were in perfect repair and most astonishingly… clean. That everything matched was a further surprise, though Harry thought the 'Nuka-Cola' theme was pushing things a bit far.

He sighed as he sat on the bed, reveling in the firm but comfortable mattress, grinning back at the smiling face of Nuka Girl smirking at him from the comforter. He tucked his legs under himself into something like a lotus position. He laid his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, breathing evenly and deeply as he sought to barricade his mind from outside distractions and to focus in on his inner serenity. Unbidden, images of his lessons with Professor Snape intruded, the sharp faced man gritting his teeth in frustration and urgency as he tried to get Harry to comprehend.

He shook away the memory and replaced the dark visage of Severus with the much more pleasant image of his Daphne. Her hair framed her face like a golden aura, her gentle smile and sparkling eyes promising a deep love with a hint of mischief. He fell into his feelings for her, surrounding himself in the sensation as if bathing in golden radiance.

He called to her, his voice traversing the ether, reaching out for the young witch somewhere to the northeast…

* * *

 **POV: Daphne**

"Oh… save that one." Daphne called out, her attention on one of the settlers that had accompanied her to Kingston lighthouse. It was a replacement bulb for the massive light at the top and was surprisingly intact for a large glass globe. She took it from him and grunted from the unexpected weight. She huffed as she carefully and awkwardly set it back down, whipping a glare at the chuckling men working around her.

She was about to give the men a piece of her mind when a warm sensation suddenly washed over her, like a summer breeze with a hint of honey tickling her tongue. She smiled even as she shivered, her eyes closing as she reveled in Harry's touch, even if it was from a distance and only through magic.

"Leave this here please, I'll come back for it." She murmured, barely loud enough for anyone to hear her. She glided into the lone house, the building enduring the pounding hammers of a small army of carpenters who were completing the repairs to the structure.

She had used the repair charm on it, but too much material had been lost over time and holes still perforated the walls and roof. It came down to muggle ingenuity to finish what her magic had begun, the two women and one man who were busily fitting wooden planks to complete the last wall.

"Could I have the house for a moment please?" She called out sweetly, knowing that she was interrupting them at their work but more than eager to talk to Harry.

They looked to each other and shrugged, setting down their tools before walking out for a brief break.

Daphne settled onto the cloth covered sofa, ignoring the sawdust which rose up around her and tickled her nose as she sat. She closed her eyes and reached out for Harry's questing touch, their magic meeting each other in the astral plane.

'Hello love.' He grinned foppishly, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. Daphne felt her heart about to burst as she reached out for him, their spirits comingling within the silvery eddies of the plane of thought. Despite only being apart for a short time, the absence seem to only augment her affection for the wizard.

"My Harry." She smiled, "I was a little worried when you didn't come back from your little joyride. Much longer and I would have had to hunt you down and give you an earful." She teased.

Harry had the courtesy to look chagrinned, "I know I was only going to ride for a time and maybe find something for a certain someone's birthday." He replied, emphasizing the last point as if to mollify any trepidation on her part.

She shook her head, "But?"

"Well, it's a bit of a story that is better told in person." He reluctantly admitted.

She raised an eyebrow at that, but trusted him implicitly, so decided to let it pass… for now.

"So what have you been up to?" Harry asked, adroitly changing the subject.

"I took a group of settlers over to Kingston lighthouse, we're here now doing a little surveying and repair work. Nothing major. Susan is doing well up at Vincentville… she renamed coastal cottage, by the way. Neville is the same as ever, spends his days talking to his plants and Lilith is busy working with the children."

"Has Luna or Soleil returned yet?"

"I haven't heard, they were coming back from that settlement to the south…Sunlight?"

"Sunshine." Harry corrected, "They helped the settlers there fend off some raiders and had stuck around with Nick Valentine to help them get sorted out. They were getting to leave shortly after I did yesterday."

"Oh, how is Nick? Did he find anything out about Cait or Nora?"

Harry hesitated, "Well, not really. The trail went cold near there. But I sent him back to Diamond City."

"What aren't you telling me Harry?"

Harry sighed, why did the women in his life seem to all be able to read him so well? Did they compare notes or something?

"Well, it's part of what I wanted to wait to tell you, but I guess you may as well know."

Daphne waited patiently for Harry to finish, his astral projection actually seemingly fidgeting as his thoughts sought to sort themselves out.

"Ok," He said at last, "Long story short. I found Cait… or rather, she found me. Abernathy was under attack by a very large force of raiders… a type I haven't seen before. It looked like we were going to be overrun when SHE appeared."

"She? You mean Cait?"

Harry's face contorted oddly, "No. Well, yes, sort of. Cait was there and she helped… but the she I'm talking about… is Morgan Le Fey."

…

"I'm sorry, who?" Daphne asked.

"Seriously. THE Morgan le Fey. Arthur and Merlin and all that. THAT Morgan Le Fey."

…

"What?" She whispered, her mind refusing to comprehend what he was saying.

"That's pretty much what I thought also. She's on her way to Salem with a few others, Cait included."

"HARRY!"

He groaned at the mental onslaught of her panicked cry.

"She's the most notorious dark witch in… well, ever! Even the muggles know that name! She makes Grindelwald and Voldemort look like first years!"

"She helped us. She saved the settlement. She's a bit overwhelming, larger than life in a way. A bit aloof, but she is no dark witch. I wouldn't be talking to you now if she was."

Daphne didn't know what to think. It was all too much to process.

"I promise you, she's not who the stories says she is. And she is coming to Salem and she is bringing everything she salvaged from Ilvermorny."

"Ilvermorny? The American school or witchcraft and wizardry? That Ilvermorny?"

He nodded and Daphne's head swam with the implications of that affirmation.

"You're the only one that knows for now. I need you to prepare the others so that no one panics or starts something… barmy."

"I'm not sure I'm not going to go barmy." Daphne breathed, astounded by the news. "Still, I'll see what I can do."

"I'm almost out of time, the others should be getting close to Cambridge by now. I need to meet with them and get them ready to pass through there."

"Cambridge huh?" Daphne said softly, a conniving tone to her words.

"Oh no, don't come out here. I need you to go to Salem and…"

"Sorry, my love. I can't quite make out what you're saying. I'll see you on the other side of Cambridge! Love you!"

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry sputtered and cursed when he realized that she had cut the link between them. He peeked out through the curtains inside the bus and saw that only a few minutes had passed. One lucky break at least, it meant that the coach probably hadn't even reached the road to Cambridge yet.

He groaned, but that meant that Daphne had the jump on him. If she flew fast, she'd make it to Cambridge before his group could safely navigate through it, and for all her power and knowledge, there was a lot about the Commonwealth that Morgan didn't know. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

* * *

 **POV: Valentine**

If he were human, he would have sighed long and hard in relief broken heart glowing in the drizzly overcast, shining a pleasant shade of red into the alley just outside his home and office.

He wasn't human, but he decided to sigh anyway and plastered what passed as an affable grin on his face. He paused at the door, shaking off the droplets that had accumulated on his overcoat and steeled himself.

"Well, there's nothing for it."

He walked in, an apology ready on his lips when his voice failed him at the scene before him.

A real beauty was lounging in his chair, her shapely legs ending in heavy combat boots propped up on his desk. Her alabaster skin was so pure, as if it had somehow survived completely untouched by the ravages of the wastes. Her luxuriously long brown hair fell in a waterfall of dark honey and framed an ageless face of exceptional loveliness. She wore the tattered remnants of a vault suit, the flimsy material doing more to betray her modesty than to safeguard it. Heavy plates of gunmetal gray were strapped to her body in a criss-cross fashion that somehow heightened her allure, as if gently demurring that what lie beneath them was a heavenly prize.

Her smile was dazzling and her gaze full of unspoken promise, the soft hazel orbs regarding him with hints of curiosity and amusement. Her ruby lips pouted thoughtfully as she rose from the chair, her body seeming to uncoil with the grace of a serpent.

An insistent cough broke him from his reverie, making him aware of an extremely nervous Ellie standing quietly in a corner.

"Nick, this is Mrs. Nora… She's here to put you on a case, for her missing baby."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Harry finally meets Morgan, Hermione and Jonathan have the mystery of the attack on the Slog to contend with, and now Daphne is heading to Cambridge to meet up with Harry. Fans of the game will remember just how many ghouls were infesting the place and the other group of people who happened to be making their refuge there... I wonder how they will react to all this? See you next time and please review!_


	15. Chapter 14: Rocket 69

**Chapter 14: Rocket 69 – Connie Allen**

* * *

 _Beneath Old North Church_

"So, the prodigal son finally decides to return?"

Deacon winced at that, and he sincerely hoped that his ever present sunglasses managed to hide the chagrined expression in his eyes even as he affected his most disarming smile.

"Glory! My, my, you are looking as delicious as ever. It's been too long!"

"Can the sweet talk baldy. Desdemona is tearing everyone's head off about you and nothing you say is going to take the sting out of the ass chewing we've been getting in your stead."

"What?!" He cried in mock indignation, "All this over little old me?"

Deacon feigned injury, dramatically placing his hand over his heart and staggering as if wounded, "I feel all kinds of special to warrant this kind of attention!"

"You won't when she hears that your back." Glory muttered.

"DEACON!" A shrill voice echoed from deep within the catacombs.

"I'm going on patrol." Glory muttered suddenly, hastily leaving by the same way that Deacon came in.

The Railroad agent mopped a little sweat off of his brow, not that he was worried about Desdemona… after all, he was the best in the field and had proved it on more than a few occasions.

Shaking his head and rolling his shoulders in anticipation of the confrontation, Deacon headed deeper within the catacombs. He took his time about it though, stopping on occasion to whisper a greeting to the few agents he met along the way.

He was smiling on the outside, but inside… he noted with sadness at how few agents there were. After the fall of Switchboard and the forced relocation of the team from the DIA to Old North Church, there hung over them all a somber pall of defeat. He had always kept away, his work was in the field after all, but after that 'retreat', he had made more of a point to stay topside. He just couldn't stand the miasma of despair.

Besides, the more recent developments bore watching very closely.

"Deacon!"

His mood brightened at the friendly greeting from Tinker Tom, the man genuinely overjoyed to see him. He abandoned whatever he had been tinkering with on his workbench and rushed over to him.

"It's great to see you, alive and in one piece!"

"Nice to see you too, Tom. Anything new?"

Tinker Tom, glanced around and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, "Desdemona has been particularly stressed lately. I can't help but think that there may be some extraterrestrial interference involved."

Deacon suppressed the urge to sigh and dismiss the notorious conspiracy theorist's newest 'revelation'.

"What makes you say that?" Deacon asked patiently, betting that putting off the meeting with Dez just a little longer was worth listening to one of his rants.

"I've intercepted transmissions from the region near Oberland Station. It repeats and is clearly not human in origin. I've asked agents that were operating near Vault 81, and one of them told me that he had heard a story from a traveler that something crashed in the woods to the east of the settlement! He says the trees are still burning!"

"And what have you done about it Tom?" Deacon asked, fixing Tom with a serious look, though he felt anything but.

"I've… well, I… Desdemona won't detail an agent to check it out." He stated sadly, defeat slumping his shoulders.

"You can't blame her, Tom. With both Dutchman and Helena missing and presumed dead, we are critically undermanned. There are simply too many problems and too few of us to deal with them all."

"Which is why you should have returned when I called for you, Deacon." Came an acerbic comment from the shadows.

Deacon blanched at the feminine voice and turned to see the leader of the Railroad wreathed in cigarette smoke standing at the entrance to the chamber. Damn! He had been too involved in humoring Tinker Tom and failed to note the woman's approach.

She sauntered in, her eyes flashing with obvious rancor at him as she passed and perched on Tom's work bench like a predator taking its ease before deciding what to do about the helpless prey trapped before it.

She took a deep drag on her smoke before speaking, "Alright Deacon, let's hear it. The earth shattering reason you ignored the signals and notes and messengers for weeks to only just now decide to grace us with your presence."

Deacon cleared his throat, "Well, you know about the sole survivor of Vault 111."

"Not this again," She interrupted, it was bad enough you decided to waste time following the trollop, but then you lost her and didn't even have the grace to say so!"

"There was something there, Dez… the Institute was involved in her waking up from that icy tomb and you can bet that whatever that reason is… it won't be good for us."

Desdemona waved away his concern, "We have had real issues staring us in the face Deacon. We didn't have the luxury of chasing down phantoms."

"Maybe, but the fact that I was there let me catch on to a few more things that are of interest. Namely the community of witches and wizards and the resurgence of the Minutemen under a new General. Not to mention… wait, did you just say that in the past tense? Did something change?"

"Your little girlfriend from the vault… she's back."

Deacon sat down without aplomb and rubbed his head at the news.

"Our agent in Diamond City reported it. Showed up at Valentine's for help finding her 'baby'."

"So after her little whirlwind adventure, she's decided to take up finding her son again?" Deacon asked rhetorically.

"Yep, and she had some serious backup."

"Oh? What kind of backup?"

"The bad kind." Desdemona pulled a photograph from her… ahem, front pocket, and slid it across the workbench toward Deacon.

Deacon peered at the photograph with a critical eye. Standing next to Valentine was the notorious sole survivor herself. Behind her, and clearly in her thrall, were three toughs… raiders, but not the scum that usually slithered out of the muck of the Commonwealth.

One was dressed like a Triggerman, but one that had the sense to armor up and carried a sniper rifle that Deacon would not want to be on the wrong side of. Another looked like a masochist's fantasy, a woman wearing what looked like a metal bikini with spikes and razor edges protruding at strategic points. Her face, however, was covered by a dark grey metal mask, only her pale chin and thick lips showing. The last one was a brute, towering over all the others and had feathers and horns sticking out all over his armor. He wielded a custom weapon… a deathclaw's hand attached to a bracer on his wrist.

"Dangerous looking bunch." He noted.

Desdemona fixed him with a 'no shit' look before taking the photo back.

"Valentine may or may not be a willing accomplice to her activity, but in either case, they've been spotted leaving Diamond City just this morning."

"Where are they going?"

"We have no idea. She dropped off the radar again. If only I had an agent who was good at following people…"

Deacon gulped a little, knowing that after all the crap he gave her about his need to follow her, then to lose her, only for her to reappear and he wasn't there to keep tabs? Now he knew why she was irritated.

"I guess I can try to pick up the trail."

"Nope." Dez interrupted. "You are going to Salem."

"Wait… what? You mean you believe me about them?"

"There have been too many disparate reports to discount them all. Plus, a little bird told me that you actually led the last escapee right to their doorstep to get a look at them."

Oh, so she knew about that.

"Last escapee?" Deacon noted, "Well, Patriot's seems to be slipping."

"Patriot's gone dark."

"No shit?"

From the answering look on her face, she was deadly serious. This was bad. Patriot was their ace in the hole, a sympathetic agent acting on their behalf within the Institute itself. He was the sole reason the Railroad has had any success at all, and for him to suddenly not be in contact.

"It's true, Deacon." Tom added somberly, "The last transmission was incomplete, meaning it was sent before it was finished. He may have been caught in the act and… well, I don't know what the Institute does to those that betray them, but considering what they do to regular people in the Commonwealth… I can only imagine that it isn't good."

"Shit." Was all Deacon could say. He accepted the offer of a smoke from Dez and they sat in silence for a moment.

"So, you want me to go to Salem, eh?" Deacon asked, tamping out his smoke before finishing and leaning back to look at the woman.

"We need to know where they land, so to speak."

"My initial assessment is that they are neutral, though the one I met, Harry, seemed to be sympathetic. I'll head over there, see what I can 'sess out."

"They have trade caravans going in and out of there regularly."

Deacon nodded, already formulating a plan. Stockton would be a good place to start, as he can sign on with a caravan heading to Salem from Bunker Hill and blend in once he arrived. With the silence of Patriot, they really needed some good news. Though he had gotten a very good impression of Harry when he had 'saved' them, he knew that a lot rode on what he learned from the community. Witches, wizards and bears… oh my!

* * *

 **POV: Daphne**

Daphne couldn't quite suppress the tingle of excitement which electrified her as she lifted off from Kingston and waved farewell to the settlers there. She was more than pleased with herself over having gotten to Harry, though not so smug as to assume nothing would or could go wrong.

Her wand was ready in her wrist sheath and she had already casted disillusionment and shielding charms, trusting in the strength of her warding to see her through the dangers of flying over a lawless Commonwealth.

The land between the Northeast (that Salem nominally controlled) and the Northwest (an area that the Minutemen actively protected) was rife with chaos and desperation. She began to wonder if the growing influence of Salem and the Minutemen were forcing some kind of compression effect, driving the raiders, super mutants and other dangers inward toward one another. That couldn't bode well for those settlements caught in between, Diamond City included.

Daphne corrected her course as she considered that perhaps some gesture should be made to the rest of the Commonwealth, something that could ease the tension and show the people there that their magic was a force of hope.

Peering through a break in the clouds, she saw a collection of brick buildings that matched the description Harry had made of Cambridge. She smiled when she thought of its namesake, a college town north of London that she had actually visited once or twice not too long ago. She frowned, remembering that it was in fact, centuries ago. She shook off the maudlin thoughts that would wear her down… she was on the way to meet Harry and she certainly didn't want to spoil his surprises by arriving upset.

Hrmm… odd. As she descended, she could see what looked like stunning charms being used. No, it was a muggle weapon, a laser rifle. She hovered in place for a moment and watched, gnawing her lip in worry as she witnessed a 'last stand' situation unfolding beneath her. Three survivors were fending off what seemed to be a growing horde of feral ghouls. Two survivors… oh no. She shook her head, she couldn't sit idly by while people fought and died, no matter who they were.

* * *

 **POV: Danse**

Danse was worried, the press of ferals weren't abating no matter how many he killed and he knew that Knight Astlin was down. Checking behind him quickly, his worry turned to dismay as Knight Rhys fell, clutching his stomach. Scribe Haylen did her best to fend them off with her laser pistol, her remarkable composure enabling her to kill the last feral inside his defensive parameter.

She deserves a commendation, if only her commanding officer can keep her alive long enough to get it! Damn this place! The Commonwealth had resisted their mission from the moment their boots hit the ground! He smashed the nearest ghoul in the head and sent it flying back, only to catch another leaping onto him and dragging down his left arm. Left in an awkward position, he pressed his rifle against the back of the ghoul and pulled the trigger, shaking off the limp remains and looking up to reassess their position.

Paladin Danse had seen a great deal in his years of service, but he had never seen a blonde woman suddenly appear out of the sky and casually jog back down as if taking a flight of invisible stairs. She smiled at him reassuringly which only served to heighten his alarm.

"Civilian! You're in the line of fire! Get out of there before you get yourself killed!"

A smirk was her only response and he watched dumbfounded as a wooden stick appeared in her hand. The tip glowed as if lit by some bright phosphorescent material and she waved it around her head, murmuring something that sounded like Latin.

Danse held his breath, mentally shaking his head at the horrible death the young woman was about to be the victim of. Three ferals were within striking range, and he could actually see their hands reaching out for her moving as if in slow motion.

No… they actually were moving in slow motion. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight as a strange hum seemed to envelope the entire courtyard. He felt a strange wave of drowsiness overcome him and leave just as suddenly, as if a spectre had passed over him and deemed his soul unworthy of claiming. The veteran of countless battles took a step back and surveyed the tactical area, noting that every ghoul that set foot inside were caught fast as if moving through tar.

The blonde girl flippantly tossed her hair back and tapped her red lips with her stick, as if pondering what to do next. Though her back was now to him, he could sense from her body language that she was reticent about whatever she planned to do next.

With a profound sigh, the woman brandished her wand again, her barely audible murmuring bearing a tinge of regret. Several pieces of detritus rose up into the air and shivered for a moment, as if unsure of their newly found powers of locomotion. They oriented themselves like arrows pointing at fully half of the ghouls within the perimeter. She lowered her hand almost dismissively and it was as if tension had been released from a bow, the jagged pieces of metal and wood flying unerringly to strike their targets.

Whatever technology she was using to slow time clearly did not affect the dead, for as each ghoul was struck, the hapless soul would fall in a nerveless heap as if the puppets' strings had been cut. With nearly half of the ferals down, Danse finally felt the stirring of hope. As disturbing as her sudden appearance was, not to mention the frightening technology she apparently wielded, she had come to them in their darkest hour and given them more than a fighting chance.

The woman turned and fixed Danse with a gaze that spoke of her regret at having to use violence, and after a moment she walked up and past him, ostensibly to aid Haylen and Rhys.

"The time slow charm will not last much longer, so do you what have to do." She whispered resignedly.

Danse nodded and stalked to each remaining ghoul and put it down with ruthless and professional efficiency.

* * *

 **POV: Daphne**

"Hunh… thanks Haylen… I, wha? Who the hell are you?" The man asked angrily, as if personally affronted that it was her instead of his girlfriend who had healed him.

"She's the lady that just saved our lives and patched you up, Rhys." The woman stated sourly, her ire obviously directed at the stubborn mule of a boyfriend.

"Yeah well, no one does something for nothing." He muttered, eyeing Daphne suspiciously.

"That's enough." Danse tersely ordered, stomping up the stairs to the landing with the rest of the team. He turned to her and removed his helm.

"Thank you for the assistance civilian, but what is your business here?" Though the question was abrupt, there was a kindness in his eyes that made Daphne bite back the sarcastic response she had about to deliver.

"I was travelling nearby and saw that you were in a spot of trouble. I couldn't just leave you to it."

"Seeing you drop in and engage those ferals… how did you manage that anyway? And where are you from?"

"Look, I'm happy to share answers with you, but you need to drop the interrogation routine."

He could not have missed the somewhat put off expression as his tone softened, "I apologize if I appear suspicious, our mission here hasn't been easy."

"Mission? Are you part of some kind of military unit?"

At his nod, Daphne sighed and decided that perhaps if she were honest, then he would return the favor. He and his team were very nearly overwhelmed after all, and she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for the moment.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass, I come from Salem. I'm a witch."

His face was blank for a moment, as if not quite registering what she had said, "I'm sorry, did you say witch?"

Daphne held up her wand, "Yes. A witch. As in charms, hexes, curses… etc. I was flying overhead and saw you surrounded by these poor souls. I used magic to land safely, to slow time and then to eliminate some of them as humanely as possible."

"Why bother? Their just ferals!" the man demanded.

"They were people once!" Daphne snapped, "They may not have much grasp on that now, and the only way to deal with them may be to kill them, but it doesn't mean we can't do so as a mercy."

"That's enough Rhys. Haylen, take Knight Rhys inside. Get some rest. When you feel up to it, I want the perimeter secured and patrolled."

"Yes sir." They both answered.

"Come on big guy, let's finish getting you patched up." Haylen said with affection.

"Heh, okay mom." Rhys replied, his tone surprisingly affectionate despite how much of an asshole he was 2 seconds ago.

When the pair had disappeared inside, Danse turned back to Daphne.

"I'm having a little trouble processing what you are telling me. But I am an excellent judge of character and your actions are what count with me. So, for myself and my team, thank you."

Daphne smiled at the heartfelt appreciation, "You're welcome. Now I've answered your question, how about mine? Who are you?"

"I'm Danse, a Paladin with the Brotherhood of Steel."

"Brotherhood of Steel? What's that?"

"We seek to understand the nature of technology, to learn from it. And to keep it from being abused again." He motioned to the devastation around them, "Humanity is on the brink of annihilation, we cannot afford to make the same mistakes again."

"Sounds like a noble cause." Daphne noted, thinking back to the day of devastation the muggles had wrought with their atomic weapons.

"I'm pleased you think so, not everyone feels that way."

"In fact, if you're willing, I could use your help in another matter."

Daphne looked up into the sky and wondered how far Harry might be from Cambridge then, worry making her gnaw on her lips as she considered.

"At least come inside and hear me out."

"Of course." Daphne relented, walking in as he held the door open for her.

"Oh, was this a police station?" She asked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.

"It was, we thought it would make a good temporary location from which to conduct our operations."

"Speaking of, you didn't say why you were here in the Commonwealth."

"We're a recon team. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than that… unless you agree to help."

Military and their secrets, Daphne thought. "Alright, what is it that you need?"

"My squad and I have been under assault almost constantly since we've arrived at the Commonwealth. We're cut off and running low on supplies. We need to make contact with our leadership to gain relief or reinforcement." Danse explained.

"Sir, if I may?" Haylen interrupted.

"Go ahead Haylen."

"The tower on the roof of this building is intact. I can use it to boost the signal of our communications, but we're missing a vital piece of technology to make it work."

"What we need is a deep range transmitter. It has the power to push our signal all the way back to our headquarters."

"I don't have one." Daphne stuttered hesitantly, not even sure what such a device would look like.

"You misunderstand, we've located a facility that likely has what we need. A place called ArcJet systems. I'm a man down and could use your help to secure the device."

"Oh." Daphne thought it over for a moment, "Can you show me what it looks like?"

Danse walked over to a long counter and bent over to retrieve something. He brought back a boxy device small enough to fit in his hand, but too large to be a mobile.

"This is a pulse beacon, a deep range transmitter would look very similar to this."

Daphne concentrated for a moment before raising her wand, "Accio deep range transmitter!"

She waited for a moment, looking up and around in a way that the others surely thought was odd.

"May I ask what you are doing?" Danse asked, his face making it look as if he may be talking to a loon.

"Sorry, worth a shot. Little bit of magic, calls an item to the witch or wizard who summons it. But I don't really know what a deep range transmitter is and so the magic probably doesn't know what I'm asking it to do."

Danse nodded, some relief coming over him, "Alright. After seeing the things you can do, I expect that things like that would become commonplace if we were to associate further. On that note, are you willing to help the Brotherhood?"

Daphne smiled at the stiff, uptight soldier, "I'd be willing to help you."

In a strange but happy coincidence, the mirror shard that she has been carrying began to hum in her pocket.

Smiling widely, she pulled it free and focused at the image taking shape within it.

"Harry!" Daphne beamed, "Wow, you got the mirror back quickly!"

"The minuteman at Greygarden was right, that really was a fast owl." He answered.

"It's good to see you for real… you know what I mean." Daphne blushed.

"Me too. But where are you? And whose the angry looking tosser behind you?"

Daphne looked up and saw a thoroughly confused Danse standing behind her. She held up the mirror so that he could see inside it, for a moment she thought he would recoil right through the wall as he stepped back in astonishment. But his discipline took over and he steeled his face.

"This is a communications device?"

"Yeah, it's a two way mirror. Harry is the leader of the Salem settlement and has the other mirror. Now don't be a goose! Introduce yourself!"

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Paladin Danse. Your friend here engaged feral ghouls and in the process saved the lives of myself and my team. You should be proud."

Daphne felt her heart leap up into her throat as Danse so blithely went on about what she had done… and she went a little bit pale when she accepted the mirror back from Danse and looked at a very surprised looking Harry.

"Well… I guess I won't have to worry about any more lectures from you about putting myself in danger, will I?" Harry teased.

"Anyway!" Daphne said loudly, "Where are you? We're here at the Cambridge Police station. I, uh, came to meet you." She said sheepishly, realizing belatedly that she had ruined the surprise.

The look on his face said it all, "I should have known. We are almost to the opposite side. I'm sticking close to the coach in case of any issues though, we heard from Jonathan that the place was full of ferals."

Danse nodded at that, "More here than I've seen together in one place before."

"We're going to take it slow and stealthy. We've got children with us, so I'd rather avoid a fight if I can."

"Children? Perhaps we should assist." Danse suggested, already moving to do just that.

"That would be contrary to the quiet approach. Remember how you didn't see me until I dropped in on you?" At his nod, she continued, "I had a disillusionment charm veiling me. It doesn't make one fully invisible to the senses, but it does well to shield us unless someone is prepared, focused and has magical ability. If they keep quiet, the magic will do the rest and they will be through with the ferals none the wiser. But if we do it another way, it may very well call in every ghoul in the city."

Danse nodded at her reasoning, "Yes, I must agree with your tactical assessment. Please ask your people to come to the police station, Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys can welcome them when they arrive. In the meantime, if you are ready, we can head to ArcJet and retrieve the technology. It isn't far, so it shouldn't take us but a few hours."

Daphne could almost feel the weight of Harry's displeasure across the mirror, but to his credit, he put on a smile and winked at her. Daphne felt immeasurable pride at that simple gesture, for it spoke to his unshakeable faith and trust in her. She was certain that when they had first awakened in the room of requirement in what had felt like a lifetime ago, that faith would have been misplaced. But in the intervening time, she had truly grown as both a witch and as a woman.

Danse cleared his throat, and Daphne flushed in embarrassment at what her moment of self-reflection must have looked like from the outside.

"Sorry, Paladin. Harry? I'm going to help Paladin Danse retrieve the technology they need. Make your way to the Cambridge Police station and we'll meet up here."

If Harry looked worried, he hid it well as he replied, "Ok. Paladin Danse? Could I get a moment alone with Daphne?"

"Of course. I'll be gearing up for our mission, when you are ready, meet me out front."

As he tromped away, Daphne too the added precaution of using a charm to frustrate any attempts at subterfuge from the others, though she didn't think it likely.

Daphne steeled herself, had she jumped to a conclusion and Harry was about to chide her decision?

"What do you think of these people?" Harry asked, his tone neutral.

"They seem honest enough. Very strict military types, they've had a rough go of things, but they are just an advance force… they need that muggle device to help them call home for help."

"Why are there in the Commonwealth?"

"They wouldn't go into specifics, just said they were here to look about."

Harry went silent for a moment, as if pondering.

"Harry, what is it?"

Shaken from his reverie, Harry flashed her a grin and shook his head, "It's probably nothing. There are just so many things happening. I have to consider everything and make sure that our people are protected."

Daphne nodded, "I see, so this doesn't have anything to do with me deciding to go along with the Paladin?"

"Oh no, you are absolutely brilliant and more than that, I trust you. I don't just love you for your looks you know."

Daphne beamed at that. "You are thinking ahead of what a relationship with these people could mean then." She asked rhetorically.

"We're making good progress, but we're stretched thin with so many problems with magic. If this thing works out with Morgan, it may prove to be the help we've been needing. But the Minutemen are growing in influence and strength and I need to make sure that Salem doesn't fall under their shadow. The time that we lived in secret from muggles is over."

Daphne frowned, "But surely Jonathan wouldn't…"

"Not Jonathan." Harry stressed, "But he won't be their leader forever. We need to make sure what we build endures. I'm happy to have us be part of a community, but in the end, we are different from the muggles and we need to make sure we keep some kind of distance. We will not be anyone's vassals."

Daphne had never heard Harry talk like this, but ever since he was unofficially appointed as their leader, he has borne the burden of their survival in this new and frightening world.

She hoped that the Paladin hadn't been waiting too long as she finally exited the police station and found him calmly waiting in the courtyard. He turned at the sound of the door and simply asked if she was ready to proceed. Nodding in the affirmative, he set a brisk pace through a nearby alleyway and onto a street that continued adjacent to some body of water. Daphne wasn't clear on her geography, but she suspected that the road ran very near to where Harry and the others would have come. If they had left earlier, they may have even run into them.

As they jogged, Danse answered her questions about the Brotherhood with candor, though he kept certain details to himself. Probably something relating to their security or somesuch. It wasn't long before the Commonwealth reared its ugly side and they witnessed a shootout between a group of raiders and a trader of some kind. Danse was quick to intervene and put his laser rifle to use, rapidly gunning down the obviously poorly equipped gang.

Daphne lent her strength where she felt it most suited, to the protection of the trader and her company. Tossing shields over them, even at a distance, proved no more taxing than taking a breath and Daphne made her contribution to the battle by blasting the last raider out over the water. She had time for several breaths before the screaming man went silent after a distant splash.

"Very impressive." Danse commented, "You secured the civilians and dealt with that last hostile very efficiently."

Daphne smiled her thanks at the compliment, the words still new to her ears after years of hiding what she could do from muggles. They continued travelling and turned north up an incline toward a building that she suspected was Arcjet. A static display of a pre-war flying machine confirmed her theory, as did the fading but still legible letter above the door.

"ArcJet systems. Intel suggests that there is no exterior security for us to worry about, but still, be on your guard. Follow me in."

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

"I'll be fine." Jonathan insisted, rising despite Hermione's full weight pressing down on him. She supposed she could tie him up in magical binding, but hesitated to use magic on him for some reason. It was as though it felt wrong to use it on someone she…

He fell back with a grunt, which grabbed her attention immediately.

"Well, maybe a few more minutes." Jonathan conceded, his face twisting into a mask of pain.

Hermione sighed at him as she searched through their bags for another stimpack, having already dispensed one on the reluctant patient. Candace stood nearby and chewed her lip in worry, clutching a small teddy bear and hiding behind Daisy's legs.

Jonathan smiled at her, "It's alright Candace. I got a few ouchies, but nothing serious. We'll just get a slightly later start than we had planned. Besides, it's turning out to be a serendipitous delay." He added with a widening grin.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, before remembering that she was talking to the super soldier who could hear a pin drop on the other side of a door… of an apartment building a block away.

"Help me up, please." He pleaded, reaching up and waving his arm in her general direction. With a long-suffering sigh, she clasped his forearm and tugged him into a seated position. He stood with only a slight groan, though he was sure to hold on to her hand 'just in case'.

The others followed after him as he stepped out toward the road where the battle had taken place, careful to avoid the deep runnels of mud that Hermione's waterworks had created an hour prior. Hermione shook her head at him as the caravan came into view, with at four Minutemen guards, three brahmin and at least two traders making their way carefully down the road. Just behind them, a massive sentry bot was turned into a pack animal; it had a harness strapped about its torso which connected via a thick chain to a wheeled cart, which was heavily burdened with raw materials.

"Hello the Slog!" The lead Minuteman called out, the bright yellows stripes standing out on his dark blue sleeve, proclaiming him as a sergeant.

"Sergeant McAvoy." Jonathan smiled, accepting the man's surprised expression and hasty salute with good grace.

"I'm… I'm pleased you remember me sir." The man stammered.

"Tenpines, if memory serves. Rebecca McAvoy was the one who had sent word about raider trouble from the Corvega Factory. How are things now?"

The man stood a little prouder, "You'd be proud of us General. Ever since you came through and helped get those raiders off our backs and get us started improving the settlement, we've expanded and attracted new settlers. We've got over a dozen new families come join us. As soon as we had enough people to take turns manning the defenses, four of us enlisted in the Minutemen. With the help of the Salem folks."

Here he paused and nodded in deference to Hermione, who he clearly recognized, "We've finished putting up the wall and haven't had any raider trouble at all! They take one look at our high walls and turrets and they move right along!"

"Glad to hear it. And I am proud. Proud to see you doing that uniform honor."

Sergeant McAvoy seemed to fairly glow under the praise, Hermione could clearly see how much these men and women idolized their General.

"We were just stopping here to check on the settlers. They're not officially under Minuteman protection, but we try to follow what we think you would do and check in on them anyhow."

Jonathan took a deep breath, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but these three are the only survivors of a recent attack."

McAvoy glanced over at Arlen and the two girls, his face twisting in confusion.

"But… we were just here… I, we traded a turret for 3 baskets of produce on our way back from Greentop!" A trader interjected, his shock just as profound as the Minuteman's.

The others began to murmur in dismay. Jonathan held up his hands to forestall the caravan folks from drafting up wild theories.

"Hermione and I believe it was the Rust Devils. We don't know why they attacked, the Slog, for all their generosity and good produce, don't exactly have a surplus of good tech to scavenge. But we will get to the bottom of this and extract justice for these people, it doesn't matter if they were aligned with the Minutemen or Salem or not. They are good people and deserve for their attackers to answer for themselves."

The people of the caravan nodded grimly in whole-hearted agreement. From the fire stoked in their eyes, it seemed as though they were ready to follow them right then and there.

Jonathan must have seen it too, "I need your help, though." That got their attention.

He glanced over at Hermione, who stepped up and told them what she knew was on his mind.

"These people have been through a terrible loss. They need time to process, to heal and moreover, feel safe. The General and I can't look after them and track down the people who did this."

She felt his hand on her back, the simple gesture all the thanks she needed, or ever wanted.

"We'll take care of them, General." McAvoy vowed, "We'll take them with us to Greentop and see about them getting settled in. Should we report this to Colonel Garvey?"

Jonathan nodded, "Good thinking, Sergeant. Have him increase patrols and send an alert to every settlement to increase their guard. And tell him…" The pause that followed was pregnant, as if he were somehow reticent to give the next order, "Tell him to prepare a strike force. We're re-taking the Castle."

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Though he didn't mean to be, Harry was a little sullen after his conversation with Daphne. Despite his assurances to her, he WAS worried over her accompanying an unknown person into a potentially dangerous situation. Knowing that it would do little good to worry over everything that could go wrong, he decided to get to know Morgan a little better as they crept their way through College Square.

The witch nodded and smiled slightly as Harry entered the carriage, settling himself in next to the young boy who regarded everything around them with wide eyes.

"We were about to head into the menagerie for a time, Mr. Potter. So I'd say that your timing is impeccable."

Harry couldn't contain his grin, "Excellent! I'd love to see more of the survivors from Ilvermorny. The Pukwudgie are quite different from the House elves that I'm used to."

A brief surge of sadness assailed him at the reminder of all that had been lost. Are any elves still out there? He brought to mind Dobbie's face, the tender elf holding his friendship with the wizard so highly…

He brought himself back to the present and vocalized a concern, "If something were to happen while we're in there?"

"Tacitus can handle anything short of an army, I've also asked Cait to keep watch and to let us know if anything untoward happens." Morgan assured him.

Hearing her name, the lively redhead perked up from reading a massive tome, her distaste for the task clearly written on her face.

"I hope something does happen, anything's got to be better than reading through this mess."

Harry glanced over and was surprised that she was holding a first edition copy of Ellison's Magical Primer. He had read through a copy himself and though it was very thorough, Ellison's writing style left much to be desired. The ancient wizard had made a relatively dry subject almost torturous. Still, it was required reading for 1st years, so he had suffered through it.

"My condolences, Cait. I've read it too. Try not to fall asleep." Harry empathized.

Cait merely grunted and bent back to her reading at a sharp look from Morgan.

The children preceded the pair as they entered the trunk into the magical space holding the wonders that Morgan had liberated from Ilvermorny.

Leaning toward him conspiratorially, Morgan murmured, "I've never read it. That wizard is a few hundred years after my time. I just wanted to give Cait something to do while we talk."

Harry chuckled in spite of himself, the spreading panorama of the environment within the trunk adding its own pleasant air to his sudden light hearted mood. He felt something soft nuzzling his hand and his smile broadened as he gently stroked the tawny fur of a Niffler.

"You'd better check your pockets, those things like to abscond with anything shiny they find."

Harry laughed in response then checked his pockets, his laughter disappearing when he realized that his mirror was missing. He turned a dour frown on the niffler, who meekly held up the mirror for him to reclaim.

"Interesting." Morgan mused, "They don't typically give up their prizes so eagerly… you must have a unique connection to magical creatures."

Harry didn't disagree, remembering the many times when he had surprised his friends with his ability to bond with creatures. He was sure it had more to do with dealing with them honestly and free of fear than to any special trait on his part.

The children were delighted to be back and skipped joyfully through the space, Abigail tumbling into Harry to present the niffler with a bottlecap. The creature sniffed at the offering and took it with eager paws, tucking it in some unknown space within its furry body and accepted the child picking him up.

"There was something specific I wanted to show you, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you can explain something to me." Morgan began, once the children had moved off to pester a very patient horned serpent.

"I'd be happy to try." Harry smiled, watching the children climb over the massive creature who lay partly out of a small river.

"I found a reference in one of the books here. A more recent work by someone name Shacklebolt."

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the name. Could it be Kingsley?

She held the small volume out for his inspection, the book bound in some kind of brilliant blue leather that glittered with tiny scales. Written in gold across the spine was the title, "Muggle Observations, volume IX."

He carefully opened it and felt a pang in his heart as he saw in delicate script, the flowing signature of his friend, now long passed.

"I knew him." He murmured quietly, "A good man, a good wizard. He became the Minister of Magic and held that office for many years."

Morgan nodded, "From what I read, Mr. Shacklebolt wrote observations about the muggles and their advances in non-magical technology, especially concerning the period of time when he guarded the British Prime Minister during the second wizarding war."

Harry nodded and Morgan continued, "A second wizarding war?" She prompted.

Harry looked around and found an obliging outcropping of massive roots from a tree and sat, gesturing for Morgan to join him.

As she sat, Harry took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally to delve back into some of the darkest days of his life. He gave her a very abridged version of his struggles against Tom Riddle and the resulting conflict that rocked the wizarding world.

Morgan listened attentively and patiently, letting Harry complete his story before asking questions.

They spoke at some length, Harry finding that retelling the tale of that far-off time was less painful than he thought it would.

"The reason I brought that book to your attention was not precisely to ask about the war, though thank you for satisfying my curiosity. No, what I really wanted to know about, were these formula that he jotted down on page 42."

Harry flipped to the aforementioned page and found, to his surprise, a complex equation that looked more like muggle science than magic. He traced it carefully, though much of it may have been in a different language. He read the passages immediately preceding it and very nearly gasped in realization.

"I take it that it means something to you?" Morgan prodded gently.

"Kingsley had taken an interest in the atomic power being harnessed by the muggles. He saw that they were a unique threat because of the scope of devastation that they were clearly capable of. But he went a step further, apparently he had the assistance of some muggle physicist and was able to work out a metamagic equation that would compensate for the lingering radiation that would occur in the event of exposure."

"I'm not sure I follow." Morgan stated flatly, clearly unused to finding something about which she was completely ignorant.

"You see. Man had discovered a way to harness power from splitting the atom. But it's like playing with fire, it can be a useful tool, but it can easily get out of control… Obviously. The current status of the world today is linked to the Great War that the muggles unleashed, thousands of atomic weapons used against each other and ruining our planet."

"Does that explain why the world still hadn't recovered? Something about the lingering radiation he mentions?" she asked, tapping a manicured finger on the tome.

"Not really. The radiation released during a nuclear explosion would dissipate in a matter of decades. What we are dealing with now is the fallout from the muggle's overreliance on fission and fusion devices to power their society. Once the bombs struck, the radioactive fuel from cars, planes, and power plants were exposed. The explosions likely spread material from these sources all over the place, and particles of plutonium and uranium still float around irradiating everything with deadly particles."

"This equation is a modification that can be overlayed on a number of charms." Morgan noted, "Though I am unfamiliar with much of it. It's far more advanced from anything in my time."

Harry considered that, he hadn't really thought that the understanding of magic would have evolved over time, though of course it must have. He looked at Morgan in a new light… perhaps there were things that he and his friends could teach the ancient sorceress.

"We've run into a few issues with many of our charms. It seems that radiation is attracted to us when we use them, which has nearly killed me on a number of occasions. It's too early to tell, but I think by applying this metamagic to those charms, we could alleviate that entirely and remove the handicap that we've been forced to operate under since we got here."

"I'm pleased that it will prove useful. There are a number of volumes in the library that I haven't gone through yet. Perhaps there are more discoveries awaiting us."

Harry was never one to get excited over books, though the implications of the knowledge just in the one he held in his hands was dizzying. Lilith and especially Hermione would go absolutely barmy over them. If the Commonwealth were taken aback at what they could do, just wait until the limitations imposed by the post-apocalyptic environment were no longer a factor!

* * *

 **POV: Cait**

"Are you ready to put that book down?" Harry asked with a grin, his head and shoulders popping up from the open trunk.

She tossed it down in disgust, inwardly wincing as a few pages came loose from the binding as the old book bounced across the floor of the carriage.

"I was ready before I ever picked it up, boyo." She practically snarled.

Harry peered out the window of the carriage and noted that they were about halfway through the square, "There's some barriers blocking our path, I think we can do some practical training and have you move them for us."

Cait peered out at the concrete barriers critically, "Those blocks are hundreds of pounds, you expect me to be able to move them?"

"It's not the size that matters, Cait."

"Is that what your girlfriend told ya? She lied."

Harry coughed, glancing back down as if making sure that the children were not in earshot. His cheeks had flushed a brilliant shade of crimson and he averted his eyes while climbing the rest of the way out of the trunk.

"It was a joke, lad. Don't get yer panties in a bunch. Although, if it bothers ye so much, ye could whip little Potter out fer me and lay any doubts to rest."

Harry ignored the jibe and pulled out one of the wands he took from the trunk for her to take, "Take this, let's see if it accepts you. I took a chance that this one would be the one for you."

Cait took the offered wand with a wry grin, "This isn't the wand I was talking about." She said lasciviously.

Harry coughed unnecessarily and fixed her with an exasperated look.

"Fine." She sighed, muttering under her breath.

For the next several minutes, Harry patiently directed Cait's actions to levitate and move the large concrete barriers from the coaches' path. She had to admit that Harry was a good teacher, relating what she needed to do in terms she could understand and exhibiting a seemingly inexhaustible fount of patience.

Cait wiped the sweat from her forehead with the hand holding the wand, the slender device seemingly accepting her without protest. It was more tiring than she had expected, though Harry explained that the magic wasn't drawing on her energy, that it was more of a side effect of her nervousness at wielding it for the first time.

Thankfully, the shifting and grinding of the concrete blocks did not attract much attention, as only one feral shifted… because the block it had been lying against suddenly moved, and merely shuffled to another spot to lie down in. The coach rumbled along, Harry taking the precaution of renewing the silencing charms which shielded their passage. An orange flag came briefly into view above the roofline of the buildings to their right, with a symbol that resembled a sword surrounded by a cog-like device.

"I think we're getting close to the police station. We'll make contact with the folks that Daphne was talking about and stay there until she gets back." Harry announced, just as the trunk lid opened and Morgan appeared from within. He repeated his announcement for her benefit, to which she merely shrugged, the movement somehow incongruous with the witch but also lending the woman a link with modern humanity.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

"You're brooding." Hermione chided him gently, as the pair of them followed the tracks left by the robotic butchers of the Slog.

They had left later that morning, after seeing to it that the caravan would indeed be able to take care of the three refugees. They had them well in hand and promised to relay his orders to Preston. From there, following the trail left behind by the killers had proven quite easy, as if they not only made no effort to hide their tracks, but dared anyone to follow.

His attitude had shifted noticeably ever since he had told the Sergeant about re-taking the Castle. She knew that Preston had been pressing him on it, but up until that point, he had demurred.

"The castle? So tell me why that bothers you so much." She pressed, going so far as to pull him to a stop and make him face her.

Though his eyes were on her, whatever he saw was far away. "I always dreamed of becoming a hero. I ate up those stories the scientists would tell us. About how desperate the Commonwealth was and how we were the perfect remedy for all their ills. They had fabricated a great deal, but they didn't exaggerate the situation up here, if anything, they underestimated. So after we had won our freedom from their experiments, I thought we'd all go on to do great things. Most of the ones I knew are now dead. Some of them because I killed them."

His voice had grown hoarse at this point, and the pain she saw in his eyes almost made her heart break for him.

"We quickly found that we were so much stronger, faster and smarter than the people we were meant to save. To most of my people, it made them think that it made them simply 'better'. Deserving of more than the adulations due to heroes… the obedience due to tyrants."

"Cypress was once one of us. Last I heard, he now leads the Gunners."

'So that was it.' Hermione thought. It was one thing to be proclaimed a General yet still be free to wander the Commonwealth and simply help where he could as his conscience demanded. It was another thing entirely to have a seat of power from where he could degenerate into the same tyrant he so vehemently opposed. As if having a place like that tripped some magical switch inside a person's head and changed who they were.

"Do you really think that it will change who you are? That you'll suddenly lord it over everyone if the reins of power come to your hands?" Hermione nearly scoffed at the notion, her tone clearly showing disdain for that theory.

"There are times, in the back of my head, that I think that I am better." He admitted, "There are times when I think, maybe I should take leadership. That I do have the answers and that the Commonwealth would be a great deal better under me than it has been since the war!"

"Are you wrong?" She pressed.

"That isn't the point! It's all for nothing if it isn't a choice freely made!"

"And what? You think that the world and the people in it will suddenly decide to stop butchering each other long enough to form a society where everyone's freedoms are respected? That isn't how things worked before the war, it sure as bloody hell isn't the way it is now."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's a temptation, Hermione. If somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel superior… then people start treating me like I am… I don't want to live long enough to become the very villain I've been fighting against all this time."

"That's not even a problem you bloody idiot! I can do things that most of you can't even dream of! Aren't you afraid that I'll go barmy and decide to make everyone my slave?"

He stared blankly at her for a moment, blinking in surprise, "But, you could never…"

"Exactly! And neither would you! No matter how many times I think that people are morons, which right now includes you, I don't take that plunge and decide that they are too stupid to make their own decisions. And for years, you never crossed that line either despite having every chance to do so. Besides, I'm staying by your side for the rest of your life, which will be painfully short if you don't stop being so thick!"

Though charged with righteous fury for most of her tirade, she couldn't help but nearly dissolve into giggles at the last, especially when he cracked a grin at her.

He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, his hot breath mingling with hers and yet leaving her breathless.

"I do so love you, Ms. Granger." He breathed.

"And I love you. Are you done being an idiot?" She didn't wait for an answer, simply pushing past him gently and stalking off through the trees. It was an effective way to get her bearings after that kiss, as she was sure that her cheeks must be glowing.

"Yes ma'am." She heard him murmur, and this time, she didn't bother to hide how much that meant to her as he caught up and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

* * *

 **POV: Danse**

Danse could only gasp in surprise at the woman, this self-proclaimed 'witch'. He had been constantly astounded and impressed with the woman's abilities and this latest display was no exception.

They had successfully infiltrated the facility only to find that the defenses had already been disposed of, and due to the lack of blood or bullet casings, he could only conclude that synths were responsible. He was surprised that Ms. Greengrass hadn't encountered the Institute abominations yet, and was sure to brief her on their capabilities.

She had just re-activated the power to the elevator when a large number of synths descended the silo like chamber to fall all around him, opening fire with their brilliant blue lasers immediately. His armor began to blare with internal alarms as he took fire from multiple angles. The fire suddenly ceased and Danse silenced the alarms to find that every synth was suspended in the air, held helpless and immobile in the grip of some invisible force.

He glanced over at Daphne, her hair dancing about her head as if stirred by a brisk wind. Her face was the picture of concentration and her wand was held commandingly in front of her. Slashing down with emphasis, the synths suddenly plunged downward with excessive force, their bodies shattering as they struck the ground.

"Are you alright?" Daphne asked, nearly out of breath.

"Affirmative. Are you?"

"Oh yeah." She answered between breaths, "Once I turned the back-up generators on, I heard those 'things' and came running. I really need to get more exercise!"

"Well, you have my thanks. It would be best not to linger, we're close to our objective. We need to hurry before the synths beat us to it."

They clamored into the now-functioning elevator and rode it in silence to the top of the rocket test chamber. At the apex of their trip, the doors opened with a friendly ding and revealed the operations center accessible via the gantry that was still intact on this level.

Daphne moved ahead of Danse and peered in through the armored glass that separated the chamber from operations. The glass was dirty and yellowed with age, but she didn't spot any movement. Danse caught up with her and by dint of his armored bulk, insisted that he take the lead.

The sudden flash of blue laser blasts searing from the room punctuated the wisdom of that maneuver, as his power armored frame effectively blocked the searing lines of killing light from penetrating her much less protected flesh. Daphne, realizing that she had let her shielding charm lapse when a laser cut so close as to uncomfortably heat her arm, flourished her wand to do just that.

She felt the rough grated floor strike her rump, her breath whooshing from her lungs. She was confused… how had she suddenly ended up on the floor?

Danse glanced back even as he continued to fire into the mob swarming through the open door and shouted, "Daphne!"

"What? I'm ok… I just tripped I guess." She went to rise and had to bite back a scream as a burning pain flared across her middle. She glanced down and almost went into shock at the blasted, blackened skin of her stomach. Fluid began to ooze from the cracks in the charred flesh made when she tried to stand, the scent of cooking flesh sending waves of nausea rolling over her. She clasped a stimpack with trembling fingers and plunged it directly into the cooked skin, stifling a scream as the raw flesh beneath the charring made its displeasure known.

To help the stimpack along, Daphne murmured a quick charm to aid the healing process and gritted her teeth as she fought to regain her feet. Channeling her pain, she called up the magic and send sentient lightning flashing past Danse to lance the three synths in the lead. The massive surge of electricity sparked and fused their components even as their plastic outer covering smoked and melted in rivulets. Several small explosions across their bodies preceded their fall in an ungainly heap.

Daphne fell back against the cool metal wall and fought to catch her breath, an insistent itching sensation making her want to scratch at her healing stomach. Danse stalked forward to finish off the remaining enemies, giving her a moment to relax.

"Area secure, I have the transmitter. How are you holding up?" Danse asked, his voice surprisingly soft through his helmet speakers.

Daphne tenderly prodded her stomach, the burnt flesh falling away to reveal pink sensitive skin beneath.

"I'll be fine, it just caught me by surprise."

"Indeed. I'm relieved that you weren't hurt worse. I thought at first that you had taken a direct hit."

"I did." She admitted.

"Then how… you know what? Never mind. I've seen enough to know that I have no idea how much I don't know about your kind. I am pleased that I have you on my side instead of against it though."

"Did you find the device?" She asked.

He held up a piece of muggle technology, "I did. Mission successful. We can take the elevator from the ops center to the surface. Once we're free from this place, I have something serious I need to ask you."

Intrigued, Daphne walked after Danse, the pain from her wound already fading into memory.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, less of a cliff hanger this time around. Sorry it took longer than I had planned to finish up this chapter.

I have to note something about some of the reviews I've gotten for this fic. There seems to be a very wide range of opinion on the quality of my work, from those that absolutely love it to those who hate it. I wonder if it's simply because it's a Harry Potter fanfic and therefore invites such intense scrutiny or is it something else? In any case, I am pleased that many of you have enjoyed this story and for those that didn't, well, can't please everyone. Until next time!


	16. Chapter 15: Way Back Home

**Chapter 15: Way Back Home - Bing Crosby**

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione shivered uncontrollably as the night wore on, the sweat matting her hair to her forehead actually beginning to freeze in the chilly late autumn air. Balancing carefully on her broom, she withdrew her wand and murmured a quick charm to shield herself from the bracing wind.

After nearly an hour of enduring the brutal pace that Jonathan was setting through the woods, even though she was reasonably sure that he wasn't going as fast as he could out of consideration for her, she had grudgingly resorted to flying by broom.

Jon was very diplomatic and kept silent as she pulled the broom from her bag and didn't comment as she struggled to mount the cursed device. She had never taken to flying and much preferred to apparate where she needed to go… she really needed to look into finding a way around the radiation issue that affected them when they tried to apparate.

Swallowing her anxiety and reassuring herself mentally that she would only slow him down by trying to keep pace slogging through the wilderness, she took off unsteadily and flew slowly over the treetops, the sedate speed she allowed herself in the air enough to match Jon's increase in speed on the ground.

Hermione gulped as the broom wobbled beneath her. This was hard enough to do on a good broom let alone the rickety cast off she rode. She started and nearly fell off as a splinter jabbed her in bum, her muffled cry thankfully inaudible to Jonathan trudging below.

Grumbling, she coasted above the General, still shivering despite her warming charm, while he forged a path through dense growth with remarkable alacrity. He moved as if an arrow, following the straight path left by the robotic butchers. She couldn't shake the feeling that they didn't bother hiding their tracks either because they were unconcerned of anyone following them or because they were counting on it.

They had made remarkable progress in the hours since they had parted ways from the refugees, enough that she didn't recognize exactly where they were. She could see the devastated city scape of Boston to their south, and if she wasn't mistaken, up ahead was the feeble glow rising from the settlement of Oberland Station.

She circled overhead lazily as Jonathan seemed to have slowed for some reason, she could see him crouching through a break in the canopy and lowered herself to the ground, curious as to what he had found. She stumbled a little coming off her broom, muttering to herself as she tried in vain to lend some grace to her landing. Thankfully, his attention was fully on whatever he had found, as he merely grunted when she moved to stand by his shoulder.

"What is it…oh." She began, her eyes widening as she saw what had captured his attention.

It had been a small campsite, two or maybe three people having stopped here for the night. Now it was an abattoir, strips of bloody flesh strewn about the small clearing as if a whirlwind of razors had swept through and flensed the tissue right off the people's bones. She hugged herself and held back from gagging at the powerful coppery stink smell of blood that pervaded the clearing.

"Three people, looks like they were heading for Oberland, maybe in response to their radio beacon."

"How do you know they weren't traders?" Hermione asked, careful to keep her eyes off the numerous signs of their violent deaths.

"No significant amount of goods, no brahmin. It was just them and what they had on their backs." He held up a pipe pistol and inspected it carefully, even going so far as to smell it.

"It hadn't been fired. They were killed before they could even put up a fight. We might have heard it otherwise… this happened fairly recently."

"How recent? Are we closing the distance?" she asked, nervous anticipation sending tremors along her limbs.

He stood up and wrapped an arm around her, perhaps mistaking the source of her shivers, "The blood is still dripping. The bones still have residual heat. Thankfully, the tracks from here don't lead to Oberland… though that may be a sign that the ones who did this recognize that this settlement won't be as easy to take as the Slog was."

It was no small wonder, Oberland station was fully under Minuteman protection. As it was on the fringe of Minuteman protected territory, it still had an active garrison in addition to its own militia. Nearly a dozen turrets kept careful watch all along its perimeter. Though no one from Salem had come to help put up walls yet, the settlers had constructed an ugly yet sturdy fence of junk that enclosed their settlement all the way to the small coastline to the west.

"Are you ok? I think we can catch them tonight if we hurry."

Hermione nodded, "I am. Let's stop the bloody tossers."

He raised an eyebrow at her vehemence, as Hermione was not one to swear often. Though he tried to restrain himself, he felt his mouth twitch into a small smile at the fierceness of her countenance.

She blushed a little but steeled herself nonetheless, she was more than ready to mete out justice.

* * *

 **POV: Daphne**

"First things, first. I'll take that transmitter off your hands." Danse announced, once they had left the chaos of the facility behind them.

Daphne handed it over carefully, the delicate looking device looking small in his massive armored fist. She glanced around the outside, pulling her jacket tighter around her frame as Danse continued to talk, his words muffled somewhat by her inattention. Her thoughts drifted to Harry, wondering if he had made it to the police station yet.

Daphne shook off the thought and looked back toward Danse, who was holding out his laser rifle with a pensive look on his face.

"Sorry, my mind wandered for a moment there." Daphne blushed. She took the offered weapon with a grateful nod, but held the heavy weapon gingerly, as if unsure what she was supposed to do with it.

She noted the aggrieved look on his face and apologized again, "I'm worried about my comrades moving through Cambridge. I'm hoping that they will have reached the police station by now."

Danse nodded in understanding, "A good soldier always keeps his… or her, mind on the mission. A great soldier manages to do that and their teammates as well."

"I don't know about being much of a soldier." Daphne laughed.

"I disagree. Though your talents are… unusual, you wield the tools of your craft well and even more importantly, you kept a cool head in very troubling circumstances. Which is why I feel confident that you could find a place among the Brotherhood of Steel."

Daphne choked, not sure if she had heard him correctly, "Are you asking me to join?"

He nodded, "Affirmative. You would be a real asset to the Brotherhood. And on the plus side, you will always have people backing you that are willing to give their lives for you."

'I already have that.' Daphne thought to herself, thinking of Harry and the others. She didn't want to downplay the singular honor he had paid her though, for no one had ever spoken so openly of her worth like this except for Harry. She could admit, quietly, that there was some small part of her that was appreciative and intrigued by the invitation. But her first and main loyalty was to Harry and the others at Salem.

"That's quite an offer. I… could I have some time to think it over?"

"Of course." Danse replied, "It's a big commitment and not entered into lightly. There would be no more mercenary work, you'd be part of an army, and a big part of that is following orders. I can understand your hesitation, but I can tell you… it's worth it."

Danse then gave her the radio frequency to contact them anytime she wished, with the assurance that she would always be welcome at the police station. Seeing that there was no more to say, for the time being anyway, they began the journey back to Cambridge, the lamps built into his armor stabbing into the deepening night like twin lances.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry let the door slam behind him, not caring if the others thought it juvenile or not. That so called 'Knight' was lucky that Harry was much better at controlling his temper (and his magic) than he was as a younger man, or else he might be experiencing life as a lighter than air balloon floating away over the Commonwealth.

His ill-temper evaporated instantly as a beautiful blonde with alighted softly from her broom in the courtyard and hurled herself into his waiting arms.

The scent of her hair made him feel a little faint, as did the comforting warmth of her in his arms. He turned his head and met her lips with his own, his glasses fogging with the heat of their passion.

She broke off contact long enough to catch her breath but held on, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"It's so good to see you. I feel like it's been forever instead of a few days."

Harry nodded in agreement and sighed, as if expelling all the negativity of the last hour. "You should come inside… there are some people I'd like you to meet."

Harry grinned at the way her face brightened, the thought of meeting other magicals, not to mention Morgan Le Fay herself, was an intoxicating feeling.

Ignoring the scowling Knight as he led her inside, he moved to the back left area of the police station where the others had set up for their temporary rest. A tiny wrought iron carriage rested on a dusty desk, the mechanical horses neighing impatiently despite being only an inch tall. Next to it, a large trunk rested with hand and footprints impressed on the dust immediately in front of it. Harry opened the trunk and held out his arms magnanimously, grinning widely at the glee in Daphne's face.

That delight would only grow as she gawked at the menagerie, the creatures within cavorting freely within their respective environments while watched over by the irascible pukwdugies. The diminutive caretakers ignored her arrival for the most part, though one deigned to look up and scowl at her proximity to his charges.

The woman gliding over to them looked as though she had just stepped from an illustrated history book, her pale skin was flawless and her eyes speared her in their hypnotic gaze. Her dress was a black diaphanous material that flowed around her like the wispy suggestion of clouds at midnight. Daphne felt uncomfortably inadequate next to this sublime creature, that she was a witch of considerable renown and notoriety only made that gravitas overwhelming. Daphne clutched harry tighter, feeling as though she was going to fall into the black hole of Morgan Le Fey's presence to be lost forever.

"Ms. Greengrass I presume? Harry has spoken of you to me. You are even lovelier than he suggested."

Daphne forced a swallow and attempted to force words past her suddenly dry throat. Sensing her discomfort, Morgan sat and smiled at her reassuringly.

"Try not to be nervous, my dear. I don't quite live up to the legends surrounding me. In fact, I spent the majority of my life on the run from the Ministry of Magic and the American Congress. I can't tell you the number of times I made myself at home in some damp cave or in the boughs of a tree. Plus, magic has advanced quite a bit since my time, I'm sure there are a great many things you could teach me."

"Teach you?" Daphne gasped, her mind not quite willing to work through the logic of her statement.

"It would be an honor. And a singular pleasure to be in the company of fellow witches and wizards that aren't trying to capture or kill me."

Daphne actually felt some of her anxiety melt away at the woman's reassurances. She smiled at sat with her, and within moments was engaged in a very stimulating conversation about her education at Hogwarts. Morgan seemed genuinely enthralled by the experience of 'modern' witches attending a learning institution specifically geared for them.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry left them to their conversation and ascended the spiraling staircase that led to the entrance to the pocket dimension. He was intent on meeting with this 'Paladin Danse' to get his measure and diplomatically thank him for allowing them to take a break within his temporary headquarters.

His timing was perfect, as the impressively girded Paladin entered the police headquarters just as he climbed from the trunk.

"Congratulations sir!" The sour knight exclaimed, surprising Harry with his display of positive emotion. His attitude toward Danse went up several notches though when the Paladin made it clear that he could not have completed the mission without Daphne's help. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy at the obvious respect in his tone as he spoke of her accomplishments, but it was buried beneath the surge of pride he felt for his girl.

Harry waited quietly while Danse received a report from the Knight and Scribe. He stepped forward when they mentioned his party's arrival, his hand extended in friendly greeting.

For his part, the paladin quickly recovered from any shock at his sudden appearance and took his hand carefully in his own armored grip. He pumped Harry's hand once and released, stepping back with a thoughtful look, as if appraising Harry in some way.

"You are Harry Potter, I assume?"

"In the flesh." Harry grinned, "Good to meet you. Thank you for extending your hospitality. It's good to stop for a bit and take stock in a safe place."

"It's the least we could do after the aid Ms. Greengrass gave us."

Harry ignored the exceedingly loud eye roll from the Knight.

"I'll be happy when you folks get on your way." He said tersely.

"That's enough." Danse barked, his considerable eyebrows drawn down like storm clouds over his eyes. "Attend to your duties."

"Yes sir!" Both Brotherhood members affirmed, coming sharply to attention and tapping a fist over their chest in salute.

"I apologize for his disrespect. Knight Rhys is a loyal soldier, but he tends to view anyone not of the Brotherhood with an overt and hostile suspicion. We've lost over half our squad and that has put a lot of strain on him."

"No apologies are necessary. His protective instincts does your team credit."

Danse smiled at the diplomatic answer, "And your friend Daphne's willingness to aid us is a credit to yours."

Danse stalked a short distance away and handed the pretty young woman a strange looking device. They exchanged a few quiet words before she moved off with a determined look and he returned.

"Was that the device Daphne helped you retrieve?" Harry asked.

"It is. A deep range transmitter. It will enable us to contact our headquarters and report on our situation." The Paladin replied, though something in his tone made Harry think that he was unwilling to share more.

"Let me ask you something, Mr. Potter."

At Harry's nod, the man continued, "I have to admit to a great deal of curiosity concerning your people. I assume that like Ms. Greengrass, you are also one of these… magicals?"

Like Danse, Harry was reticent to give out too much information about his people, especially to an obviously military organization, but he satisfied the man's curiosity by telling him a little of the wizarding world.

"That's… fascinating. Though somehow that word doesn't seem to do your report justice."

'Report?' Harry thought.

"Forgive me, I am not used to addressing civilians outside of an official role. And though I've seen what Ms. Greengrass could do with my own eyes, I feel somewhat at a loss to describe it when I make my after action report."

Harry felt a brief burst of alarm, of course the man would have to report the encounter to his superiors… Harry briefly toyed with the notion of obliviating the man, but he was not as precise with it as Hermione was. And Morgan Le Fay certainly couldn't do it, given how Tacitus acted, she would likely turn Danse into a vegetable.

Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from the towering Paladin, the man's gaze locked onto something behind Harry. He turned as saw Morgan gliding to join them, a demure smile seemingly meant for the tall man himself.

Danse coughed emphatically, making it obvious to all concerned that the man had forgotten to breathe for several moments.

"I thought I recognized the voice." Morgan purred, her hands stroking the breastplate of Danse's power armor. "It's been a long time, Lancelot."

Confusion warped the man's face at being addressed thus, "My name is Danse. A Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel."

"Of course you are." Morgan breathed, her face mere inches from Danse's. The man gulped audibly at the beautiful witch hovering in front of him, his face going even paler as she traced his jaw with a single immaculate finger.

"So very long." Morgan breathed again, smiling in amusement at his consternation.

"Hrrumph." Harry coughed loudly, attempting to break the enchantment Morgan was unintentionally(?) weaving over the poor man.

She settled back onto the floor, and allowed the Paladin to retrieve some measure of his composure.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." He stated flatly, attempting to modify his tone so that it was clear that it was indeed not a pleasure.

"In any case, I'm pleased that my Daphne was able to help you." Harry stated, only somewhat emphasizing the 'my' part.

Danse swallowed visibily and tore his eyes from the witch, returning his focus to Harry, the look on his face torn between relief at the interruption Harry provided and regret that he had.

Ignoring the heavy glower from Knight Rhys, Harry motioned to Daphne, who had just joined them, and Morgan, "Well, we've mucked things up enough for you. We'll be on our way now. Salem would welcome you if you ever have the occasion to be up our way."

Clearly taken aback at the offer of hospitatily, Danse merely nodded in reply, though a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Harry went back and retrieved the trunk, lifting it easily with his magic and directing it to follow him out the door. Morgan and Daphne followed behind him in silence until they were well away from the imposing edifice.

"That was interesting." Harry murmured, including both Morgan and Daphne in his questioning gaze.

For her part, Daphne looked a little flustered, "I did what I think you would have done in my place." Daphne stated, a little defensively.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Morgan cut him off, "And it certainly didn't hurt things that 'Danse' is easy on the eyes."

Daphne blushed and sputtered, her eyes wide at the scandalous implication.

"Calm yourself, Ms. Greengrass, it was a jest. Though he is as handsome as I remember."

"What do you mean? You've met Danse before?" Daphne asked.

"Not when he went by that name." Morgan replied cryptically before removing the tiny carriage from… somewhere and coaxing it to resume its previous size.

"Do I do that?" Daphne whispered to Harry.

"Do what?"

"Talk so infuriatingly oblique? My grandmother did the same thing and I had always assumed it was a witch thing and that I'd start doing it before reaching my dotage."

"Not that I'm aware of. Hopefully you hold off on doing it when I'm too old to know what you're saying in any case."

Harry laughed as she playfully slapped his arm, though she was pleased to her core at how he accepted as fact that they'd be together long enough for that to be a concern.

"Speaking of which, I found your birthday present. I'll just wait for a more auspicious place to present it to you than the filthy streets of a ghoul infested burrough."

Her curiosity piqued, she pressed him for clues, though it appeared Harry had kept his ability to keep a secret from his adventures at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

"Die!" He screamed with a bellicose roar, a curse that would have turned her blood cold had it not been fired by the same need for justice that drove her.

They had rushed the final few yards to the attackers, meeting them beneath an ancient overpass which seemed to form a convenient border with the Glowing Sea. The 'creatures' had slowed their pace, as if waiting for them to catch up. And when they turned, there was no surprise writ on their faces… if that all too human emotion was even possible for these abominations.

Four of them formed a guard of sorts for the fifth, a nightmarish amalgamation of man and machine. A largely naked… and aroused human torso was strapped into a robotic frame, the stumps of his arms and legs directly linking him to the monstrous engine. The others were little better, being smaller versions of their ward except that only their faces hinted that they had ever been human. It was disconcerting that the faces morphed between hatred and abject sorrow, their features exaggerating the emotions as if it was the only means by which these creatures had to express their torment.

Drool slipped from the central figures meaty lips as he leered at Hermione.

"The master has told me of your coming. He knew that you would answer this challenge."

"Who? Who is your master?" Hermione screamed, her voice giving substance to her revulsion and defiance.

"You will know him soon enough. For now, we do what we must." The words were difficult for him, as if the biology of his throat and vocal cords were compromised by his transformation. With that as his preamble, he launched himself at Jonathan, who wasted no time firing at the fleshy portion of his form.

The others came forward as well in a macabre pantomime of his movements, their cruel claws extended before them to rip and tear at their flesh. Hermione grimaced as she thrust her wand forward and stole their momentum with a wave of stunning energy.

Taking advantage of the lull in their assault, Jonathan pressed forward and grasped the leader by his throat and crotch, grunting with the effort as he lifted the heavy creature up off the ground.

The man actually laughed as he was lifted, even as he fought to bring his own wicked implements to bear on his opponent. Jonathan suffered a few scratched but achieved his aim, pushing the robot-man directly above him and pulling him down forcefully on his bent knee.

Metal crunched as it met the armored joint of Jonathan's knee, the man bending unnaturally and sparks flying from the obviously damaged mechanism of his body.

Throwing him with disgust, Jonathan stood up and retrieved his rifle, though he turned just in time to witness the man regaining his feet and straightening his damaged spine with a screech of tortured metal.

"My turn." He gurgled, the words coming out like thick liquid vomit. His arm suddenly extended to twice its length and his claws rake the air right in front of Jonathan. The general twisted out of the way with supernatural speed but was a moment too slow as his other limb came sweeping in with a scythe like blade.

It stuck fast in his chest armor, though she could tell that the blade had cut far enough to lacerate flesh from the angle of the black metal and the sharp hissing intake of breath from Jonathan. The creature tugged on its blade but found it stuck fast, looking up with something approaching panic as Jonathan jammed his sidearm into its neck and pulled the trigger several times.

"Your turn to die!" Jonathan snarled, his bullets making carving the creature's throat into ruin. He shifted his aim upward, so that the last few rounds blew out and up though the abomination's head, blackened flesh erupting from the back of the disintegrating skull.

With an impetuous shove, Jonathan hurled the creature off of him, his face twisted into an expression of disgust.

Almost absentmindedly, Hermione sent a bead of expanding force at each of the four robotic minions, crushing them and hurling their limp bodies away. They landed in a heap of twisted metal, sparks flying in a shower of illumination as they writhed feebly in their death throes.

She turned to Jonathan at his pained grunt, her eyes widening in concern as he pulled the scythe blade from his chest armor and dark blood poured in a ghastly waterfall from the rent chest piece. She rushed to him as he groaned again and collapsed to his knees, his face going pale from the blood loss.

She forced him onto his back with trembling hands, his failing body offering not even the slightest resistance to her paltry strength. This concerned her more than anything, as even at his weakest, he was many times stronger than any other man she had ever known.

Biting off the cork from a small tincture, she let fall the last few precious drops from her vial of essence of dittany. To her relief, the bleeding slowed then stopped entirely, new skin appearing as she used a finger to wipe away the old blood. She fell back with a relieved sigh as Jonathan coughed.

"Thank you, my love. That was worryingly painful." Jonathan murmured, not even attempting to get up as he would have in the past. His eyes closed and it appeared to her that he had fallen asleep.

She reached for his hand and took comfort from its warmth, and the strong steady beat of his pulse beneath her questing fingers.

An eruption of wet gargling screams shook her from her reverie with the cold fingers of dread. She looked over at the monster's body and recoiled at the fountain of blood which sprayed from a rupture that appeared in his chest. The blood was thick and black, like old motor oil, and smelled even worse, sloshing and pattering on the ground all around the horribly mangled machine-man.

A black mist rose from its mouth as the blood spatters lost their vigor, reduced to a trickle that ran down the creature's sides. Hermione grasped both her wand and Jonathan's hand all the tighter as the wraith coalesced above the ruined flesh, forming a vaguely man like shape bedecked in flowing black robes.

The creature chuckled, its voice echoing within its cowl and sounding as though it came from far away.

"Well done to both of you! I wondered how well you would do against my former lieutenant! And I must say, you did even better than I imagined! Even that muggle friend of yours did better than I had thought."

"Who are you?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth, her wand aiming at the creature with clear menace burning in her eyes.

"Oh how rude of me! One should always remember their manners! I am Jeremiah. You are Hermione Granger and that muggle there is Jonathan."

Hermione took the opportunity to stand, keeping her wand pointed at the black apparition. It was just a sending, she realized, and that anything she did to it wouldn't affect the dark wizard in the slightest.

"I've been trying to get in touch with you for some time now! I would like to offer you and your people a place at my side! We magicals need to stick together, yes?"

"You want us to join you?!" Hermione cried, incredulous. "You are a murderer! I've read what you did to the original inhabitants of Salem!"

"They lacked vision." Jeremiah interrupted, his voice suddenly cold and menacing. He sighed dramatically. "You aren't really open to the idea right now, are you?"

"Never! You ordered the attack on the Slog, you are behind the Rust Devils attacks on innocent people throughout the Commonwealth! How could you believe we'd ever join you?!"

"It was worth the attempt. Just remember… I tried to do this the courteous way. I lament my lack of patience. I'm afraid we're just going to have to do this the hard way. I don't take no for an answer. "

The wraith dissolves almost instantly, whisked away by ethereal winds. An odd silence pervaded the area and made the hair stand along the back of her neck. She scanned the horizon but saw no threat, but could not allay the fear that something was horribly amiss.

She moved to crouch down at Jonathan's side when she froze, her eyes having glanced over the bloody ruin of Jeremiah's 'lieutenant'. Her heart quickened in her chest as she made out the pattern on the baked asphalt, the blood spread out in a way to form an ancient and dark rune. She had just enough time to shield herself when an explosion of inky black tendrils erupted from the air above the pattern, and 3 forms stepped from it, the hoods of their dark robes thrown back to reveal sneering faces.

They were so young! She gasped to herself, horrified by the twisted evil on the faces of people who could not have been long from their awkward teen phase. The central witch would have been a beauty were it not for the cruelty twisting her face into a foul mask of humanity. Her hair was long and shaved at the sides, and her robes were worn over gunmetal gray combat armor etched with the Rust Devil's symbol on her breastplace, a stylized mechanical skull with spear like blades spread behind it like a fan.

The apparent leader sneered at Hermione, "Too bad Potter isn't here. I would have relished the chance to pay him back. Guess I'll just have to take it out on you!"

It felt to Hermione as if she were watching some light show, bereft of sound or feeling, just flashes of light that danced at the edges of her vision. She was strangely dispassionate, like an uninterested observer instead of a participant. Harry told her about it, that sometimes the mind does things to protect itself from the chaos and horror unfolding around them.

Block, shoot, move. Duck, renew, shoot, shoot, shoot. It started to take on a life of its own. Her limbs and lips moving as if purely on instinct and her active consciousness was just along for the ride. She looked upon the frustration clearly writ on the faces of the trio that faced her and that reminder of their humanity brought reality slamming back into focus.

The shouts, the crackling energy coruscating all around them, the tinkling of shields as they absorbed bolts of power. Despite her extraordinary performance, she was tiring, her arm felt as though it was made of lead. She had been shielded for a time from that all too mortal feeling of exhaustion, but adrenaline could only do so much.

As if sensing that their triumph was close at hand, the trio stepped up their attacks, leaving Hermione unable to counter as she did all she could merely to defend herself from their assault.

Suddenly, the wizard to her right let loose a broken scream of pure agony, his youth betrayed by the almost childlike shriek that broke from his lips. A dark shadow rose from behind him and pulled the serrated knife from his back. The young wizard crumpled and continued to wail in agony, his limbs stiffening as his bodies trembled from the unimaginable pain.

Distracted from the ongoing battle with the tired witch, the others froze in shock at the sight of Jonathan rising as if a spectre, blood dripping from his blade.

"Kill the fucking muggle!" The dark witch screamed. Turning back to Hermione and renewing her attack.

Hermione barely managed to suppress her grin… this witch was nowhere near as good as she believed herself to be and alone, she was almost no threat at all.

In moments, the angry woman's wand was sent sailing through the air and Hermione blasted her in the midsection with a focused stream of lightning. It speared through a gap in her armor while tendrils of white hot energy danced and arced along her limbs, gleefully spreading along the metal the witch had foolishly girded herself with.

The wizard facing Jonathan conjured a stream of fire against the advancing super soldier, though the jet of flame was paltry and sputtering, as if reflecting the unease of the wizard wielding it. Jonathan ignored the licking flames even as it erased his right eyebrow or blacked the skin along his hands. With a sudden lurch, the soldier grasped the man's extended arm and whipped him around, a loud pop echoing off the overpass as his shoulder became dislocated. The wizard barely had the time to inhale for a scream before he was pulled into Jonathan's less than tender embrace. His cries were choked off with an abruptness that was frightening in its finality as the soldier tightened his arm around the wizard's neck.

With a grunt of effort, Jonathan wrenched his arm violently, nearly tearing the young wizard's head from his shoulders.

The witch drew in a haggard breath as Hermione stood over her, the defeat in her eyes a palpable thing. Hermione wondered as the witch cocked her head up and to the side, as if listening for some distant signal. She sagged as if relieved, Hermione taking a step back in surprise at the relief painted clearly on the woman's face. A black cloud erupted behind her and pulled her into its embrace. It twisted in midair and vaulted up into the sky, leaving a confused and tired Hermione to gaze up after it.

* * *

 **POV: Jeremiah**

The chamber echoed with his laughter as he stepped away from the settler's corpse, the man's purpose as a temporary scrying pool fulfilled. His abdomen had been hollowed out and the empty space filled with blood and oil, giving him the pool he needed, the magic fueled by the man's departing life force.

He wiped an errant tear from his eye as he regarded his daughter, his magic having deposited her on the metal stairs leading into their latest conquest.

"She is quite beautiful isn't she? Ms. Granger."

Ivey squeaked an agreement, her brush with death and the fear that a greater punishment yet awaited her at her fickle father's hands pressing on her with a titan's strength.

"Now, now. Don't fear, daughter. I don't blame you for this. In fact, I rather expected the extraordinary Ms. Granger and the meathead to be a bit of a challenge. I especially underestimated the soldier. It appears some muggles are made of sterner stuff than what we are used to." He gestured toward the dead settler on his table as he vocalized that last observation.

Standing at his gesture, Ivey walked beside him as he casually strolled up the stairs and through the yawning gear-shaped portal. The scent of machined metal and hot electronics was a balm to her soul, and her heart slowly regained its steady rhythm when it appeared that her father did not mean to place her back into the penitent engine.

"It is unfortunate that our mercenary friends have been unable to procure one of the new Salem folk as of yet." He paused as if considering something and startled her with a sudden snap of his fingers.

"Those raiders near The Slog… what were they called?"

"The Forged." She replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, the Forged. Delightful. They fell rather easily to Ms. Granger powers, but still present quite a menacing air with their metal armor and proclivity for flame. I wonder if they could use some leadership? I'll have to think on that."

She murmured something vaguely affirmative as they entered the security foyer in the incomplete vault, just in time to meet with a pair of Rust Devils who held a limp ghoul in Vault attire between them. Seeing their leader, they dropped the woman between them and bowed respectfully.

"Oh, how disgusting." He recoiled from the 'Overseer'. "My new world will have no room for your kind, abomination."

The defeated Overseer looked up with rheumy eyes and fixed him with an incredulous look. She was the abomination?! He was surrounded by desecrations of machine and flesh and he had the nerve to call her the freak? She tried to stand as if in answer to his disgust.

"Crucio!" He shrieked, the red energy splashing against the woman's back and hurling her forcefully back to the cold metal floor. She writhed in agony as it played over her limbs, setting her nerves alight with furious pain.

Panting heavily from his sudden rage, Jeremiah wiped the spittle from his mouth and stood back with a sneer.

"Take this wretch outside and crucify her." He handed a small vial to one of the Rust Devils, "And force this down her throat. It will keep her alive longer."

His eyes gleamed with ardor as he added, "A living, screaming lawn ornament is much better than a corpse, yes?"

He returned his attention to his beaten daughter and actually managed some measure of affection in his next words, "Get some rest, Ivey. I want you to gather a force and purge this site. We will make use of the material here and build another stronghold for our expansion."

He patted her on the shoulder and gently urged her to go, which she seemed strangely reluctant, as if as soon as she turned her back her father would bury a dagger in it. Which he had done before, so he could forgive her hesitation.

He walked outside, in good spirits despite the recent setback, confident that his vision for the world was well on the way to fruition. He blinked as he beheld the morning sun cresting the horizon and let his smile widen as his other worthy children, all thirty of them, bowed to their father. Beyond them, hundreds of Rust Devils knelt in homage to their master, the scores of lethal robots emulating their human counterparts as well as their mechanical limbs would allow.

Jeremiah felt the swell of pride as he beheld the extent of a mere fraction of his power, the majority of his Rust Devils sequestered in hideaways throughout the Commonwealth and in their secret sanctum within the Glowing Sea. He moved through the crowd, smiling at his people as they offered him worship. He paused and grinned as a hammer hit a spike, the Overseer screeching as the cold rusted metal pierced her wrist. He continued to watch as the other spikes were hammered in, the ghoul thrashing against the agony. He waited for his favorite part, when the T shaped frame was lifted and the woman's wounds bore her full weight. She gasped, fighting for breath that wouldn't come until she forced herself to rise and take the pressure off her lungs. Curious… he thought that ghouls didn't actually need to breathe.

He moved on, a positive skip in his step and offered the Rust Devil in courier livery approach him. She seemed excited, and it infected Jeremiah as he took the paper she offered.

"Ah, Publik Occurences." He recognized the newsbill from that newspaper that operated out of Diamond City. His eyes drank in the news and with a flourish, he held up the paper in triumph.

"The Mechanist is defeated!" He shouted, to the answering cheers of his followers.

He laughed and cheered with them, happy regardless that it was others who had caused his main competition's downfall.

"You are now a Lieutenant." He announced to the messenger, whose face lit up at the promotion.

"Get the word out to all groups. The Mechanist is gone. Ransack the Commonwealth!"

"And the north?" His new lieutenant asked.

"Leave them for now," he paused, considering the question, "Offer a new contract to the Gunners. Tell them that I will pay a premium if they will bleed the Minutemen for me. They should agree, a stable Commonwealth protected by a group of citizen-soldiers is certainly not fertile ground for profit to a mercenary group!"

The last several weeks had seen the ranks of his forces grow as raiders fled the blue tide, the Minuteman flag flying over the entire Northwest Commonwealth. The pesky muggles were even extending their influence east even while Salem secured their own domain in the Northeast. The entire north was no-man's land for anyone under a raider flag, for the magicals in Salem and the General's forces were effective at excising the raiders from their lands.

But that was all about to change. He'll let the Gunners bleed them from the south, while the new players from the east took their pound of flesh. Oh yes, glorious war was coming, and with it, a literal harvest of flesh and metal to satiate his appetite and fulfill his destiny.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

Harry couldn't quite contain the glee that lightened his heart as the carriage approached the shining white walls of Salem.

"Looks like you are building a new Camelot here, Mr. Potter." Morgan remarked, pursing her lips in thought as she regarded the pristine concrete surrounding the town.

Cheers arose from the militia men once they approached closely enough for Harry and Daphne to be recognized. The gate opened without delay and a small crowd came out to welcome them back.

Harry's grin could scarcely convey the warmth at the sincere smiles on the settlers faces. Even those settlements protected by the Minutemen didn't have the aura of hope glowing from its populace. These people were healthy, well-nourished and above all, filled with hope. It was a powerful affirmation that he and the others had done the right thing by opening the town to muggles and being open about who they were.

"Barney!" Harry shouted, as the older man marched determinedly through the throng. Barney's grin easily took up his face as he pumped Harry's hand heartily.

"Good to have you back! I hear you've brought some new folks?"

Harry was about the answer when the crowd suddenly went quiet, a low murmur replacing their joyous shouts, as if everyone became afraid to speak above a whisper. Turning, Harry could see what had so affected the townsfolk, as Morgan had exited the carriage, her otherworldly beauty capturing the attention of every soul within eyesight.

Daphne grumbled, "If that's going to happen every time she comes outside, maybe she needs to live somewhere else."

The living legend glided forward just as the Harry's friends joined the crowd to welcome him home.

"Bloody hell Harry!" Neville rarely cursed, but given the circumstances, Harry could hardly blame him.

"Mr. Longbottom. I hear you are quite the expert in herbology. You and I will have much to discuss." Morgan purred.

Neville stammered ineffectually and barely managed a nod in affirmation.

"And you are Ms. Moon? I understand you have taken it upon yourself to begin the education of the other magicals you have discovered. I have three more charges for you, and some materials that will no doubt prove useful."

Lilith's smile was beautific, and it was easy to tell that Morgan had a great deal of respect for those who lived to teach others. Those two should get along famously, Harry thought.

"Alright! Alright! Let's stop all this gawkin! Mr. Potter needs to be brought up to speed, so the rest of you, get back to your work!" Rook commanded, his gaze brooking no argument. The others moaned in dismay but moved to do as he directed, even as he gently guided Harry to their unofficial town hall, the old church.

"Susan is doing well. She's remaining at Vincentville and my boy Adam MacTavish is leading militia patrols to keep the area safe. They've got about forty folks up there now, mostly farmer folk, though a few have a bit of grease monkey to em, so they salvage material from the fish packing plant. The dynamic duo, Walt and George, have completed another boat and it's up there now to give them some airpower."

Harry absorbed the information, his concern for Susan allayed somewhat by the fact that she is throwing herself into the work of building up a new settlement instead of sinking into depression. Still, he needed to see her soon and check on her himself.

Barney went on, gesturing at the map he had laid out, "Croup Manor has been rebuilt, Luna and Soleil are there now helping them get along. They've got about two dozen folks, they've been surveying the houses nearby and based on what they've said so far, it will make a fine town with a little work."

"Just out of curiosity, are we spread too thin? Seems like we got people all over the place." Harry asked.

Barney shook his head, "We've had a few more folk come in since you were here last. The new settlements are attracting folks too… people just looking for a place to settle down. Salem still has almost two hundred people living here, we may need to start shifting people away if this keeps up."

"I haven't really looked, how many people can Salem support?"

"If we stay within the walls? I'd say four hundred at the most. We can always spread out beyond those, but we'd be hard pressed to keep folks safe. That's why they're looking at the neighborhood near Kingston and Croup Manor so hard, plenty of houses there and some of them are in really good shape all thing considered."

"Tell me about Kingston." Daphne put in, curious as to what progress had been made since she left.

"Well, since you left, they've finished up the house and that's about it. We've got some turrets and a patrol in place. Preston from the Minutemen gave us a couple of refurbished protectrons from their new robot factory and we've put them to work helping secure that area."

"If you are open to it, I'd like to take a look at this lighthouse." Morgan put in, surprising everyone with her presence.

"I can show you." Daphne said sweetly, quietly hoping that Morgan would decide to settle there.

The witch eyed her askance, her long midnight tresses wafting back from her pale face. Her lips pursed into a small knowing smile as she nodded at Daphne, acknowledging her offer.

They spent the rest of the day going over details of the settlement's growth, with Neville happily chattering about his successfully transplanted crops at the newly established settlements.

"I want to know a little more about the robots that the Minutemen have been offering us." Harry put in, realizing that George and Walt have yet to make an appearance.

Somehow noticing who Harry was looking for, Barney thrust his chin in the direction of their warehouse "Those two are holed up in their workshop. They've built some kind of contraption based on the blueprints Sturges gave to them in addition to the three robots they've brought with the last trade shipment. That's all I know, so you'll have to ask them yourself."

Harry stretched and stifled a yawn, looking out through the windows and noting how the daylight was swiftly taking on a ruddy color.

"We've been at this for a while, let's leave it for now. I'm famished and I bet you lot are too. Let's call it a night."

Though a gentle dismissal, the entire group moved en-masse to the café, the enticing smells issuing from the expanded kitchen forcing a ferocious growl from Harry stomach.

"Good lord Harry! I need to do a better job at tending to you, you clearly don't take care of yourself." Daphne poked at him, eliciting a chuckle.

"I wouldn't mind that at all." Harry answered, throwing an arm around Daphne's shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze.

They arrival was well-timed, as they approached the door just as a group were leaving, opening up plenty of space for them to tuck in. Harry and Daphne squeezed into a booth while Morgan and Cait took a seat opposite them.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight of Morgan Le Fay trying to maneuver into a booth while still maintaining her normal poise and gravitas.

It felt good to be back, maybe this time he would be able to stay for a while and attain whatever sense of normalcy can be wrested from this world. Daphne took his hand under the table and squeezed it affectionately, and his heart swelled with the love he had for her. He felt himself falling into the depths of her eyes when the table lurched, jolting him from his reverie.

"Ok you two. Eat first, then you can go all googly eyed on each other." The matron chided, albeit gently.

Harry's eyes gleamed as the women set a metal casserole dish on the table.

"Is that?"

"Toad in the hole. My grandmother taught me." The matron said brightly, beaming at the pleased faces from Harry and the others.

"Well? Don't wait for it to get cold! Tuck in!" She ordered, the group immediately setting to with no further prodding.

Harry stabbed a steaming length of sausage and tore into it with gusto, prompting a giggle from Daphne at his bestial behavior. He growled playfully at her and unbidden, an image of Ron coalesced in his mind. A memory of his best friend annihilating his food in proper Weasely fashion. A brief stab of remorse hit him, nearly making the effort of swallowing his mouthful too much.

Harry mumbled a curt apology and staggered up, moving like a broken marionette as he abruptly left the café.

He took in a deep breath and felt a hand on his arm, Daphne's face creased in concern as she asked the obvious question with her eyes.

"It's nothing, I'm alright." Harry said, weakly.

Harry nearly laughed at the look that overcame her, a look that almost every woman he had ever known had mastered and was specifically designed to discomfit their men. Did they take a class on how to do that?

"I was just remembering Ron. That dish was a favorite of his and…"

He didn't have to say more, as a cloud of emotion passed over Daphne's face as if the spectre of memory was washing over her as well.

She took a shuddering breath as if to dam the tide of emotion and all he could do was to take her into his arms.

* * *

The next few days passed without incident, though each one seemed replete with excitement as more and more of Morgan's influence became unveiled.

She took to the Kingston lighthouse with her usual calm acceptance, stating that it would suit her purpose. Harry and the others were gifted to a rare sight as she wove ancient magic not seen for centuries and made the lighthouse into a true magical wonder.

The tower rose and twisted, reaching double its previous height. The power of her extension charm made the interior a match for the great hall of Hogwarts, each level carefully crafted to suit the needs of both the current settlers and future generations.

Lilith was beside herself at the numerous classrooms which the pukwudgies were busily stocking with the supplies that they had brought from Ilvermorny. Morgan crafted a wondrous astronomy lab at the pinnacle, similar enough to the one that Harry knew so well that he had to remind himself that he hadn't stepped back in time.

The other creatures in the menagerie were quickly found homes in the extensive suites that Morgan crafted in the new dungeon of the tower. She seemed sad as she did this and Harry could easily enough guess why. In her time, these creatures lived wild and free in the world, owing nothing to the races of man. Now they were essentially imprisoned in metaphorical cages, despite how much effort the ancient witch put into making them as much like their natural habitats as possible.

"Can you promise me that someday they'll be set free in a world that they can thrive in?" Morgan has asked, her voice so soft that it sounded more like a sad little girl than a century's old witch.

Harry shook his head sadly, "I can only promise to do what I can to pave the way for that future."

She nodded, knowing that no one could guarantee any outcome, especially with the world as it was.

Harry considered her words as he flew back to Salem later that day, his thoughts awhirl with all the changes that were taking place and all the work that yet remained.

"Harry!" a distant voice called.

Looking about, his musing was shattered by a ray of warmth as he beheld Hermione and Jonathan walking along the road beneath him.

He landed with characteristic grace, leaping from his broom and landing lightly on his feet, before rushing to embrace his friends.

Jonathan winced slightly as Harry hugged him, making the wizard raise his eyebrow questioningly.

"A little wound. Still a bit sore." Jonathan explained, waving away Harry's concern.

"He was stabbed through the chest with a scythe from a mad cyborg. Hardly a 'little' wound." Hermione growled.

Jonathan patted the air as if to forestall her ire and to Harry's surprise, it actually seemed to do the trick. Hermione really did love this man if she was able to drop an argument so readily!

He walked with them as they journeyed the last few yards into the settlement, Harry eyeing them both and waiting for the expected reaction.

"What in the blazes!" Jonathan gasped, as he came in sight of the first of the changes.

Harry's chuckles doubled as Hermione added her shock to the soldier's, both of their eyes wide with awe.

Morgan had altered the walls of Salem soon after arriving, increasing their height to nearly epic proportion. Every hundred or so yards was an ornate arch carved into the wall, into which stood a silent guardian made in the likeness of the knights of old. One even seemed to resemble Jonathan, and a few of the others seemed familiar as well.

"Did she?" Hermione began.

"She sure did." Harry answered brightly, "There are surprising gaps in her knowledge, though in retrospect, she does come from an age before wands were widely used. Still, she remembers things from that age that are absolutely astounding. Remember those statues at Hogwarts that could be animated in defense of the school?"

"I do. I remember seeing their shattered remains on the bridge, they held off Voldemort's giants for a goodly time as I hear it told. Wait… are you telling me that these can animate too?"

Harry grinned as he nodded. He followed her gaze to the nearest colossus, the smooth grace of the stonework doing nothing to diminish the scale of the silent defender. A dozen twenty foot tall statues that could come to life to defend the settlement? Any attacking group would be in for quite a surprise for the few moments of life before they were smashed into paste.

"You should see Kingston Lighthouse." Harry remarked as the two recovered their wits enough to continue walking into the Salem.

"I can only imagine." Jonathan breathed.

Harry smiled, "It's like Hogwart's reborn, but different enough to be something completely new. There's books, quills, parchment, botanicals and most impressively, a number of creatures we thought lost. A small army of pukwudgies are hard at work making the tower a proper school. You should see Lilith, I thought she was going to cry when she held her first class with the children."

Hermione's eyes fairly glowed at the news, "I'd love to help her out and try my hand at teaching."

"Those kids are wonderful. Morgan brought two more with their father. With Cait finally home with us, we are really turning things around for magicals."

"And muggles too?" Jonathan asked, not quite masking the seriousness of the probing question.

"Muggles too." Harry confirmed with a smile, "We are building a better world for both of our people."

"The Minutemen will respect your borders and will always answer if you should call, Harry."

Harry nodded, though Jonathan picked up the reticence of his response.

"You don't believe me?"

Harry was quick to answer, lest he offend the good natured man, "I believe in you. I believe that you would absolutely keep your word. But as wondrous as you are with your gifts… you won't be around forever. The Minuteman failed once already. My concern is for the future."

"Then you'll just have to help me do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Happy to."

Hermione sighed happily at the industry taking place in the settlement, with people going about their business with a spring in their step and hope radiating out from them like a palpable aura.

They made their way to the Church, while catching each other up on recent events. Jonathan was grieved to hear of the attack on Abernathy that had led to Harry's meeting with Morgan.

"Thank you Harry, truly. You put your life on the line to help protect my people and I am forever in your debt. I'd like to thank this 'Morgan' as well. Were it not for you both, Abernathy might very well have been wiped from the map. This new raider gang has me concerned too. For so many to appear and so far within our territory concerns me deeply."

Further discussion was interrupted as a gaggle of children were being herded, with limited success, by an exasperated Neville. His efforts were not aided in the slightest at the gentle teasing he was enduring from Fingers and Cait, who had found in each other kindred spirits.

Harry could only regard the man with sympathy, as the bulk of their teases seemed to revolve around a very subtle (for them anyway) intent for both women to bed the stuttering wizard.

His face as red as the new crop of tomatoes he had cultivated, relief flooded over his face as he saw the three of them arranged around the main map table.

"Children! Children! Look here! Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger and General Jonathan are here!"

Neville was pleased for the brief instant it took for him to realize that the announcement did not have the effect he had hoped. The children did indeed surge forward in excitement toward the three 'Heroes'… but that left him alone with the two women, who used the opportunity to enclose him in their trap.

* * *

 _Somewhere beneath Fort Hagen..._

"I don't know how you think this will play out, but I can tell you this. It ain't gonna play out the way you want."

"Big words from a man on his knees." She purred, her eyes boring into him like a predator. Nora paused in front of the mercenary and knelt down until she was eye level with him.

"I've lost my mind." She confessed to him. "This world has stripped me of my sanity just as you stripped me of my husband and son. Though it take me through hell and back, I will find my Shaun and maybe, just maybe, reclaim some of my humanity. There are answers in that head of yours, and I'll have them, one way or another."

"Even if I told you what you wanted to hear, it won't go your way. He's out of your reach. Hell, he's out of anyone's reach. He's in the Institute and there is no way anyone is getting in there without an invitation. And darling, this is one party you are going to have to miss."

He surged to his feet, utilizing surprising strength and speed to throw off the firm holds of the muscle Nora had brought with her. The cruel Disciple flew over the consoles and crashed heavily against the rubble strewn floor as the Operator was knocked cold and slumped down. The wild man from the Pack howled in dismay and charged at the mercenary, his cry cutting off in a sudden choke as Kellogg caught him by the throat and lifted the burly man off the floor.

Nora wasted no time on surprise and hurled herself backward, drawing her pistol and firing several shots into his legs.

He seemed to barely react to the lead perforating his flesh, twisting and hurling the colorful raider straight at her.

She leapt straight over the flailing body and rushed in straight at the man, her Vats activating as she closed the distance.

Kellogg drew his .44, the same weapon he had used to execute her Nate. Her attention narrowed to a laser focus, time slowing to a crawl as the neurons in her brain fired faster and faster, compelled by the wonders of Vault-Tec technology. She heard the oil spring tension of his trigger as he squeezed it, the hammer slowly moving to the rear.

She grasped the barrel of the pistol and pushed it up and back toward Kellogg's face, his eyes widening in surprise as the hammer rocketed forward and struck the firing pin. The explosion blossomed from the barrel as the round tore through the minute space between the muzzle and his chin.

In a grotesque frame by frame account, Nora watched as his face disintegrated as his skull fought to resist the kinetic energy of the heavy round tearing through his head.

Time resumed its normal flow, the mercenary's blood raining down on both her and the hapless merc. Pieces of his largely destroyed head spattered as his body slumped forward onto her.

Nora gagged at the smell of blood and filth filling her nostrils and curiously… of burnt electronics. Curiosity overcoming her distaste, she shifted the man's heavy body to peer closely at the red ruin left of his skull. She saw a glint of something shiny and dug her fingers into the scattered bits of bone and brain to dig out the device.

She pulled it free and let the body continue its fall as she inspected it. It looked like a smaller brain with wires and components attached to it. She was no technical wizard, though she suspected that Nick may be able to shed light on the technology or at least tell her who would. As if thinking of him summoned the detective, his voice drawled from the entry to the underground abattoir.

"Damn kid. Sorry it went this way."

A half smile curled a corner of her mouth as she held up her grisly prize.

"It's alright Nick. I think this will have the answers I need."

* * *

 **A/N:** _I'm very sorry that this update has taken so long to post. Especially as I technical owed an update to my other fic on here. Between wife, four kids, full time work and full time school, I just find very little time to write and even less motivation as I'm usually exhausted by the latter two by the time I do get some spare time. But I've been pecking away at this chapter for the last month or so, and I apologize if it seemed jumpy. Happens when you stop writing for a while and try to pick back up where you left off… more than once. I do need to get to work on the other fic though, as it is nearing end-game where as this one is only just really building up to an end-game._


	17. Chapter 16: Happy Times

**Chapter 16: Happy Times – Bob Crosby**

* * *

 **POV: Hermione**

Hermione definitely had a spring in her step as she descended from the top-most floor of the tower to the middle levels, where 2 classes were taking place. She opened the thick oak door as quietly as she could and peered in, grinning with genuine nostalgia-laced pleasure at the 6 students waving wands in the air as Lilith repeated the incantation.

A squeal of happiness erupted from several young mouths as their mole rat tails spun up into the air, their hard work all morning finally paying off. Hermione shared a wide grin with Lilith, who had noticed her at the door, before closing it quietly and moving toward the second classroom.

She entered it and drew back somewhat at the scene before her, as Cait was suspended in the air with a foul look on her face. The other students were concentrating on keeping her up while Morgan moved about and tried to distract them with various items.

One she tickled with a feather, the girl's giggle and subsequent break in concentration causing Cait to tilt ominously.

"Damn it! If ya drop me, I'll smack the giggles right outta ya!"

A serious looking young boy wore a mask of intense concentration, not so much as batting an eye when Morgan poked him with a needle. The boy, an orphaned lad called Adam, wasn't as naturally gifted as the others. Despite that, he was the most advanced in his class, determined to make up for his shortcoming through hard work and focus.

Hermione continued watching as moved to an empty chair and sat, setting her journal open on her thighs and pulling the quill from its spine. She began jotting down notes about the tests she was writing for the students. She had a nearly eidetic memory for those exams she had taken at Hogwarts years ago, but knew that those tests would unfairly tax their students, as they didn't have the advantage of the numerous professors that she had learned from.

Neville popped in loudly, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. As such, Cait dropped to the ground only to halt mere inches from the unyielding stone floor, courtesy of Adam's seemingly unflappable focus. The fiery Irishwoman turned a baleful glare at the oblivious man, Neville craning his head around as if looking for something or someone.

"Are we lost again, Professor Longbottom?" Morgan asked, her voice sliding across the skin like a silk wrapped serpent.

"No! I was just, ah… Yeah, I am. We really need to label these doors. I'm looking for my potion's lab."

Though not terribly skilled at potions, Neville did know ingredients and aside from Harry and herself, the most qualified to teach that class. Though Hermione was fairly certain that Potions was only taught on Thursdays…

"You should be looking for the atrium, today is Tuesday." Morgan sighed.

"Oh!" Neville cheered up at the news, despite the unspoken exasperation Morgan clearly had for him interrupting her class, he did love to talk about his beloved plants.

If there was any place in the tower that he could find in the dark, it was the atrium and its attached greenhouse. He mumbled an apology and quickly withdrew, his footsteps rapidly diminishing as he ran down the stairs.

Hermione smiled in apology as Morgan sighed again, looking around and seeing that the lesson was clearly over for the day anyway. The ancient witch waved a hand and the students scattered, as despite her commitment to treating them gently, the children were terrified of her.

Cait was the last to exit the room, scratching at herself beneath her robes in a most un-lady like fashion.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Ms. Granger?" Morgan asked once her composure was restored.

"I wanted to get your opinion on the OWLs I'm writing, I know it's a little early considering we've only just started, but I wanted to get a good handle on how we can measure each student's aptitude and the areas that we should focus on for our curriculum."

"I'm afraid my input would be of little value, my dear. We didn't have schools or tests when I was a young witch. I was taught by my relatives as were many others of the day. In the rare case of the muggle born, if they survived discovery, they'd have to apprentice themselves to a witch or wizard who was willing to teach… and most were not." Morgan answered.

"Well, you are the most accomplished witch among us, perhaps of all time. Can you at least advise me on how important you think the old test subjects are, given how little material survived the Great War?"

Morgan sat in acquiescence, and waved at Hermione to continue.

She flipped her notebook back a few pages, "Okay. We had a written exam and a practical exam in twelve subject areas. Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defence against the Dark Arts, "Morgan raised an eyebrow at that one, "Ancient Runes, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy," Hermione mumbled out the next, her lips twisting in distaste, "Divination, Arithmancy, History of Magic, and Muggle studies."

Morgan considered the list for several moments, a perfectly manicured nail tapping against her rose red lips, "The History of Magic would be the most difficult I would think. I can teach what I remember, but that's hardly all-inclusive. Too much has been lost for us to be able to do much more than a rudimentary overview of what we do know."

Hermione nodded in agreement but felt compelled to add, "However, not teaching or testing in this area would be a severe oversight. Even the muggles have the saying, those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it."

Morgan began to reply but paused and looked past Hermione at the door, her mouth quirking up in a coy smile.

Hermione turned around to see what had grabbed her attention and smiled at Jonathan standing uncertainly in the doorway. He had kept busy the last several days by coordinating with his Minutemen via owl and radio for their assault on the Castle. They would always meet up at mealtimes and talk about their day and it seemed to Hermione that Jonathan was itching to get back into the action, perhaps a little discomfited at the comfort offered by life in Salem, as odd as that seemed. Still he seemed happy enough.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath of mild surprise as Morgan glided past her, the imposing witch interposing herself between Jonathan and Hermione. She couldn't help the flash of annoyance as she stood up and walked around the woman to see to Jon.

The atmosphere of the room seemed to dim as Morgan subconsciously warped reality around them. Hermione had noted that in the presence of men, the beautiful witch tended to automatically attempt to beguile them, most of the time without even meaning to. However in this case, Hermione thought with a flash of jealousy, Morgan seemed fully aware of and indeed reveled in the tension she was creating.

She placed a pale hand on Jon's chest and breathed in deeply, as if inhaling the essence of the man. For Jon, his face was the definition of trapped panic, his eyes darting about and his skin going pale.

"What a pleasure to at last meet you. My, aren't you a handsome one." Morgan purred.

Jonathan coughed to clear his throat and took a step back, "Yes, well, it was rude of me to not come to you earlier… to thank you for helping at Abernathy." He spoke stiffly.

Hermione came to his rescue by walking to his side, his hand seeking out hers with an almost desperate energy.

Morgan arced her brow at their hands, their knuckles going white with the strength of their grip on each other.

"You don't need to thank me, I did what I did for their sake, not yours. No insult intended of course, had I known such a delicious creature such as yourself was invested in them, I would have done more to put you in my debt." Morgan laughed lightly, her tone almost musical.

"Yes, well. Thank you. I'll not take up any more of your time."

"Oh no! Don't leave on my account." She whispered heavily, "I've always so enjoyed teasing the paragon of purity, and the centuries haven't changed you at all, my dear Galahad."

Jonathan shuddered at the name, making Hermione look up at him in alarm. His face had gone even paler than before, the color bleaching out like it was being washed away by a descending curtain of white paint. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, his grip on Hermione's hand loosening. He took several deep breaths and murmured a farewell before turning away and hurriedly retreating from the room, pulling Hermione along behind him as if she were a kite.

He closed his eyes against the witch's laughter, which followed them down the spiraling staircase. Hermione struggled to keep up lest she lose her footing and end up being dragged by the fearfully retreating super-soldier. It unsettled her to her core to see him like this.

"Stop. Jonathan… you're hurting me."

As if slamming into a brick wall, the man stopped so suddenly that Hermione bounced off his back. He turned around, Hermione almost crying aloud at the stricken look on his face.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." He breathed, his eyes roaming over her for some sign of injury.

"It's fine. You were just tripping me up going down the stairs so fast." She assured him, "Are you going to tell me why we're running away?"

Jon braced against the wall at the landing, his head hanging as he calmed himself through slow, deliberate breaths. He tried to speak but his voice came out as a dry croak, so he paused again and swallowed hard.

"When she called me Galahad, I… saw things. It was as if I wasn't in this tower anymore, I was somewhere else… a terrible world of nightmares and despair. There was a woman dressed in white, screaming as blood ran down her body. I saw a field of corpses, of men impaled upon lances like a field of the most macabre crop ever conceived. I walked a landscape where everything was dying and the eyes of starving children condemned me as I passed. I watched, my heart seemingly breaking as a man was borne away on a bier constructed on a long ship, pennants of a dragon flying atop the mast. I don't know what any of that means. Is it the future? The past?"

Hermione rubbed his arm comfortingly as he spoke, most of the images he described horrifying familiar in a way she could not quite fathom. The only sequence that she could connect with the name Galahad, was of the funeral he saw, Arthur of legend being taken to be healed at Avalon… where myth said was the abode of Morgan Le Fey.

"It might have been nothing." Hermione said, "You've been working so hard coordinating with Preston. It might just be exhaustion."

"Do you really believe that?" Jonathan asked.

Helplessly, Hermione shook her head no.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

He suppressed his curiosity as he watched a clearly upset Jonathan being led away from Kingston by Hermione, the young woman nearly bowing beneath the weight of the larger man as they walked slowly up the road leading to Salem. He would have stopped, but he somehow felt that whatever was happening to them, was a deeply private matter. Besides, the whooping teenaged Nat riding behind him served as an adequate distraction, though he made a mental note to check in with the pair later on.

He had left Salem just minutes before with the intent of seeing Morgan, Lilith, and Hermione, hoping that the trio had between them made some sort of progress in deciphering the metamagic formulas found in Shacklebolt's book. He had been accosted by the rambunctious Nat and reminded quite vociferously of his promise to take her for another broom ride.

Not having a good reason to deny her and being rather fond of the girl, he relented to her enthusiasm with a laugh and a nod of agreement.

Though initially in a hurry to get to the tower, he took his time and let Nat enjoy a long broom ride. They first flew to the north and circumnavigated the new settlement of Vincentville, Nat excitedly waving down at the startled settlers below. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought that he might have seen Susan waving back as well. The hamlet was doing quite well, and its people looked industrious and happy.

They next flew over the eerily flat fields which was once the site of the Dunwich Bore. Harry had to tamp down on the uneasy feeling that came over him even flying over the place, though nothing of the original quarry was recognizable. Nearly Headless Nick had volunteered to keep an eye on the place in his wanderings. Harry supposed that no news was good news, as the naturally gregarious Sir Nicholas had said naught of the place.

They then flew low along the roads around Croup Manor, the house restored to its Pre-War glory and its inhabitants using it as a base from which they slowly but surely extend Salem's influence to the small neighborhood surrounding it. From what he could see, several of the homes would be fit for habitation sooner rather than later and the foundations of the wall that would encompass the expanded settlement were already laid, drawing a chalky grey outline around the future settlement. It was ambitious, as seen from above, for the layout of the curtain wall would encompass several square miles.

Finally, Harry corkscrewed the tower with ever increasing speed, thrilling his passenger though the wind of their passage swiftly stole what joy she tried to express. He slowed at the last moment and settled gently on the ground by the main door, eyes twinkling at Nat's reddened face and heaving chest. Her answering smile was all teeth, white and gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.

"You want to come in with me? Take a look around?"

"Heck yeah! I bet you got all kinds of magic stuff in there!"

"Just be sure to not touch anything and stay close to me." The warning was barely heeded by the over-excited girl but necessary, as a farmer unwittingly released a swarm of billywigs just the day before. By the end of it, a dozen muggles were floating in the air and giggling hysterically, leaving Harry, Daphne and a troop of especially acerbic pukwdugies to corral them back into their habitat (the billywigs, not the settlers.)

Harry was reliving his arrival at Hogwarts for the first time vicariously through the expression on Nat's face. That memory was tinged with a hint of sadness, both over all that had been lost and for the girl, who was not gifted and therefore could never touch the deeper mysteries offered by their new school.

Nat's face was the picture of rapt awe, blissfully unaware of Harry's conflicted emotions. She watched the irascible pukwudgies attending to their duties, absolutely delighted by the hairy little fellows. She sighed in open appreciation as a young phoenix, given the run of the tower, flew in a spiral above them.

Thanks in large part to Morgan's command of magic, the interior of the tower was bigger than its exterior, which was much larger than the original lighthouse. They stood on the ground floor, which acted as a massive foyer which welcomed new students, the center of which was dominated by a wiggentree that Neville had delighted in finding within the menagerie. Bowtruckles abounded on the tree, though they were extremely difficult to spot.

Harry led Nat to the tree and whistled, hoping that the shy creatures would feel open enough to reveal themselves and greet the pair. His hopes were realized as a solitary bowtruckle unfurled from beneath a nearby branch and waved shyly in their direction. Nat squealed in delight at the tiny stick-like figure and clapped her hands with the boundless joy that young children often had. Emboldened by her reaction, the bowtruckle danced a little jig on the branch and bowed low to Harry and Nat's applause.

Harry gave Nat the penny tour, showing her the things that a muggle could perceive, the visual delights finding a firm hold of the young girl's heart. Her expression faltered as they approached the door to Morgan's study and classroom, "This is as close as I can ever be isn't it? I'm not magical like you."

Harry's heart went out to her and he hugged her with one arm around her thin shoulders, "You can visit anytime you want. In fact, there was a man, Argus Filch, who was born as squib. That's a non-magical person born to magical parents. He was the caretaker of my old school and despite his lack of magical ability, was always welcomed by the school, if not by its inhabitants… he was a singularly unpleasant man."

She nodded, only slightly mollified by his attempts to cheer her up. Glancing up, Harry spotted Lilith coming down the main staircase and intercepted her.

"Lilith, could you take Nat with you for a bit? Maybe show her a few things while I talk to Morgan?"

"I was just on my way to the Tranfiguration classroom, I need to set things up for class tomorrow. If Nat doesn't mind, I could use some help getting the place in order."

"Oh I would!" Nat exclaimed, her earlier despondency forgotten for the moment.

Harry nodded in thanks to Lilith as she led Nat down and away and turned to the heavy door leading to Morgan's domain. He knocked gently, sure that Morgan le Fey was fully aware of his presence. His assumption proved correct, as the door swung open on well-oiled hinges and admitted him into the brightly lit class.

An entire section of the curving wall was given over to a massive and intricate stained glass window which told the story of Merlin's discovery of Arthur. 'Interesting choice' Harry thought. A dozen chairs were arranged in a semi-circle facing a podium which stood just behind a silver symbol etched into the floor. He recognized it as a powerful protective spell-form, a persistent charm that aided any witch or wizard that stood within it. Though not as effective as a Patronus charm, it could even hold a dementor at bay.

Morgan herself stood at the window, looking out over the sea. Harry could almost imagine that if one looked hard enough, one could see England from there… though of course, that was impossible.

As if reading his thoughts, Morgan spoke, "I look out and imagine to myself that if the clouds would clear just enough, I could make out the green shores of my homeland. Silly I know. I was saddened to hear of its fate."

"It's not silly at all. It was my home too."

"Yes of course." She smiled as she turned to face him, "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"I was wondering if you had made any headway with the metamagic that Kingsley wrote down in his journal."

She shook her head, "I'm afraid not. The level of theory involved goes beyond my era and expertise. It assigns an almost arithmetic level of complexity and order that is far too alien for my understanding. However, Helena has taken an interest. As I understand it, House Ravenclaw were renowned for their academic achievements. She is studying it in the astronomy lab."

She turned back to the window and resumed her wistful and longing stare across the grey ocean water. Sensing that she wished to be alone with her thoughts, Harry mumbled in thanks and saw himself out. He climbed the stairs thoughtfully, his mind going back to the ruin that his home had become, the damage so extensive that it had led to their exodus here. He wondered if there were a way to ever get back and perhaps set some things right.

He pushed open the hatch leading to the pinnacle of the tower and the expansive astronomy lab that had been built there. He had relied heavily on his memory of Hogwart's astronomy lab to construct this one, and was aided a great deal by Helena Ravenclaw's own recollection of the place. She drifted above the balcony, Shacklebolt's journal open before her intense gaze. She murmured and the page obligingly turned, her lips sounding out the former Minister's ancient words as she read.

"Ahem." Harry coughed lightly, loathe to break her intense concentration.

She glanced up with an annoyed look that did not dissipate with recognition, "I suppose you're here to interrupt me too?" she breathed, her eyes once again glued to the contents of the pages.

"Someone else had come?"

She sighed heavily, a mortal affectation that seemed strange coming from an incorporeal ghost and closed the book with a wave of her hand. Harry was a little surprised that the journal responded to her like that, as ghosts were rarely able to interact with the mortal world to that extent.

Instead of answering him, she merely looked, her eyes speaking volumes as to the absurdity of the question. Harry blushed a little and attempted to salvage the situation… years of living as a ghost had not tempered the woman's haughtiness one bit.

As if to punctuate the tension, lightning flashed outside and a veritable curtain of rain began to sweep toward them from the open ocean. Harry drew his wand and inclined his head to Helena in a 'do you mind?' gesture.

He flourished his wand and closed the balcony doors and observation windows, saving him from becoming completely soaked by the autumn deluge.

"Anyway. As I am sure you are aware, I would like to know what progress has been made on the metamagic theory penned by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Being able to integrate that with the magic that is vulnerable to the ambient radiation would restore a great deal of our power."

"Is that your guiding star, Potter? Power?"

Harry gritted his teeth, "We stand at the edge of oblivion. We all represent the best chance of restoring magic to this world and just maybe healing it. If I have to seek power in order to do that, I will. I don't seek power for power's sake, or else I would have kept the Elder wand. I would much rather marry Daphne, raise a family, and live a quiet life. But someone has to be responsible for the safety of all these people and the legacy of magic."

"The muggles have a saying… the road to hell is paved with good intentions." Her voice softened, almost in sympathy, "I know you mean the best. I'm sorry if I seem harsh, but if you are to take on the task of being that hope for our kind, then I take on the task of helping keep you on the straight and narrow path. Falter, and it would spell doom for us all."

Harry nodded, though hardly mollified by her words. Still, he could logically see her point, he just wished she wasn't so bloody arrogant about it.

"I have deconstructed the spell forms that he drew and was able to follow his line of thought. The logic is sound and though magic doesn't always fit into tidy boxes, I believe that it should work. I just need to proceed carefully and meld some simple charms or hexes with the forms he has written. The trick is, finding someone willing to try them."

"When the time comes, I'll be the one to do it." Harry proclaimed.

"I'm not sure Daphne would be so pleased at that, and I don't relish the thought of crossing her."

"You leave her to me." Harry chuckled, "Thank you for the work… and for the…" Harry waved a hand to indicate her earlier behavior, successfully tamping down on the annoyance he felt at her attitude and lack of faith in his character. A gesture she seemed to understand as she replied with a small smile and a nod of acceptance.

Harry left her to the work, deep in thought as he listened to the rain pounding against the tower like a storm of gravel cascading down a metal grill. New England autumns were nothing to sneer at! He went to seek out Nat and get her back to Salem soon and keep him free from Piper's displeasure.

* * *

 **POV: Jonathan**

"Well well well. If it isn't the Commonwealth's very own living super hero. How's it going Captain Freedom?"

Jonathan could only shake his head at the saucy reporter's greeting, knowing that if he showed too much discomfort with that ridiculous title, she would make sure it would make print and stick with him.

"Hello Piper. Keeping busy?"

"I've pretty much worn my pencils down to nubs." She laughed, "Publik Occurences is more popular than ever! Even with the owls to deliver editions to every settlement and the printing press that Harry fixed up, I'm barely keeping up with the demand. I gotta tell you, I'd have never thought that people would actually want my paper so much. It's a lot better than the natives running out the 'nosy reporter' with torches and pipe pistols."

"People are more open to the truth now that they see that there is hope to accompany it."

Piper cocked her head to the side and shifted her hips, the signature 'tell' for the young woman's mind cooking up an idea. It was usually accompanied by anyone who knew her well enough to recognize the signal to brace themselves (or run).

"Speaking of hope, I haven't really done a piece on the rise of the Minuteman General, the indomitable Captain Freedom!"

He groaned aloud, "For all that is holy, please don't print that."

"No problem," She grinned, knowing she had him in her clutches, "all I need is full access and exclusive interviews."

He blinked, his mind slowly coming to terms with the fact that she had so easily outmaneuvered him. He nodded dumbly, but brightened a little knowing that as tenacious and single-minded as Piper was, she was also a very empathic woman and a friend.

"When would you like to do the interview?" He sighed in mock defeat.

"Interviews. Plural." Piper looked around, "Are you busy now?"

A few minutes later found Jonathan squirming to get comfortable on an overstuffed settee while Piper scrounged up some sheafs of paper and a blank holodisk. With an 'ah ha!' of triumph, Piper planted herself on an office chair opposite him, balancing a clipboard on her knee while placing a recorder on the coffee table between them.

"Do you mind if I record this?" Piper asked, all business.

"Sure."

"Ok, let's get a feel for this, I'm just going to ask you some general questions about the Minutemen, just let me know if I'm asking anything too sensitive."

He nodded, resigned to the fact that nothing about this situation is going to be comfortable and figured it was best to get through this as quickly as possible.

"How did you first become the General of the Minutemen? There hadn't been one in years and many speculate that this was one of the many reasons why the Minutemen declined prior to your intervention."

"Preston Garvey was pretty much the last of the Minutemen. At the time, we'd worked together to help out Tenpines Bluff, Abernathy farms and to get Sanctuary on its feet. People were so grateful for our help that settlers from those places started to provide support and eventually recruits. Preston took on the task of training and organizing the men and women who came to join and pretty much promoted me to General by virtue of being no one else to argue with the decision."

"So it just as easily have been Preston who became the General? If you had refused?"

"I suppose, though when I suggested that, he was pretty firm that he didn't have the chops for it. He's a tactical thinker, a good field commander, but what was needed to truly bring the Minutemen back was a strategic thinker."

"And what makes you qualified?" Piper pressed.

"I was raised in a military environment. My education included Hobbes, Machiavelli, Jefferson, Napoleon and even Gaius Julius Caesar. Military strategy was an important component of my upbringing."

"Interesting. So now that the Minutemen exert influence over nearly a quarter of the Commonwealth, what are your plans for the future?"

"Well, some of that I can't discuss for the sake of operational security. But I can say that we've recently made contact with a woman living alone at Egret Tours Marina. She was in a bad way and accepted the offer of our support. There was a settlement that had recently been displaced due to an incursion by the Institute and needed a place to stay. I have a squad there now to fortify the place and bring it under our aegis."

"Fancy word." Piper smiled as she scribbled some notes. "Is there any truth to the rumor that the Minutemen are planning an operation to retake the Castle?"

"Well…given that the Castle is currently overrun with mirelurks, and that they seem to be protecting a queen of unusual size…"

"Mirelurks don't read my paper, Jon."

He laughed at that, "True, but the raiders that live in the downtown area near there certainly do. If you can promise me that you won't print this until…"

Piper nodded with a grin, easily able to guess the omission.

"Then yes, we are going to retake the castle. Preston is assembling an assault force even as we speak and Salem is going to give us a lift there, so that we don't get entangle with raiders or super mutants along the way or give any reason for Diamond City or Bunker Hill to get nervous."

"Well, I'm sure my readers will be glad to see the Minutemen flag flying over the Castle again. Now, on a different note… what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Hermione Granger?"

Jonathan gulped audibly.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

The rains had finally decided that the Commonwealth was wet enough before breaking against the irradiated wasteland called the Glowing Sea. The clouds parted somewhat, just enough to let a few stars peek down at the tiny people going about their lives on this brown and blue world. A wispy, silvery nimbus haloed the moon and amplified its glory across the sky, its soft light bathing everything in a dream like quality.

Harry took a deep breath as he stared longingly at the revelry taking place in the café, the matron having carte blanche to prepare a feast with the bounty of Neville's harvest and the new crop sources coming in from the other settlements. It struck Harry with a sense of profound relief and pride that Salem could now stand on its own, no longer even marginally dependent on the Minutemen aligned settlements for its basic needs.

Not that they wouldn't continue their relationship, people seemed happiest with the promise of an open and safe Commonwealth with which to trade. Several people, now that the roads were safer and with the rapid communication that existed between the two nascent powers, could visit other settlements without the specter of death looming over them. Parents became more hopeful as the pool of available young people expanded, providing a pool of eligible matches for their own children. Harry could only imagine what that must have been like… to have a child only to doom them to a solitary existence because finding someone of a like age for them to develop friendships or even future marriage partners… it must have felt like their futures were bereft of hope. As it was though, young adults freely moved between settlements, their safety all but guaranteed now that Barney Rook's Militia was able to extend the umbrella of Salem protection to a wide swathe of previously untamed wasteland.

The overwhelming thought of his own future made him reticent now, his eyes dancing with the lights spilling from the diner accompanied by laughter and music. He had eyes for but one person, who was showing an older man some dance steps in the cramped confines of the noisy diner. He could almost imagine her musical laughter as she caught the stumbling gentleman. She glanced out the window, as if sensing Harry's proximity and though he probably imagined it, gave a secret smile to the darkness outside like a beacon for him to find.

He had wanted to catch her alone but was loathe to pull her from the party, for any reason to celebrate was something to be cherished for as long as possible. Girding his resolve, he strode with purpose to the diner and wrenched the door open, immediately swallowed up by the clamor within. He stood there framed in the doorway, goofy grin and all, and simply stared at the object of his desire.

The music dimmed in his mind as he walked, dreamlike, toward his dear Daphne. He drank in the sight of her as she loomed ever larger in his vision, his breath coming in short gasps as his body reacted of its own accord to the love that suffused every particle of his being. She peeked out from behind the elder, who turned out to be Walt, and smiled while extending a hand toward Harry.

His palms wet with nervousness, he wiped them on his jeans and carefully pulled a cloth wrapped bundle from his pocket. Walt noticed him and stood aside with a conspiratorial wink, giving Harry the space. Daphne's smile widened, and as impossible as it seemed, became all the more beautiful. He wasted no time and pressed the small token into her hand, closing it with his own and simply holding her in place for a moment pregnant with anticipation.

She cocked her head quizzically, though her smile never faltered.

"For your birthday." He murmured, certain that she couldn't hear him.

She shook her head in confusion as his words were lost in the din. He opened his mouth to speak again when the music suddenly died, everyone pausing their laughter and shouted conversations to glance at the jukebox, its electrical cord held in Walt's hand as he shrugged an apology.

"It's for your birthday." Harry repeated, as everyone's eyes shifted to him and Daphne.

She beamed at him and carefully unwrapped the gift, her eyes going wide in shock and her free hand covering her mouth as she beheld the tiny offerings on display in her hand. She looked up at Harry and gasped again, as he had dropped to a knee, his eyes beseeching hers with that unspoken question.

She took up one of the rings and slid it onto her finger, tears glistening like diamonds on her cheeks as a sob escaped her. She fell into Harry waiting arms and managed to cry out, "Yes!" past the lump in her throat.

Gasps resounded through the diner as comprehension dawned over their audience like the dawn's rays breaking out over the Atlantic. Harry stood up, bringing Daphne up with him and they held one another, their tears reflected in the eyes of nearly everyone present.

"Three cheers for Harry and Daphne!" George proclaimed, breaking the spell that seemed to have enraptured everyone, their cheers echoing into the night and awakening an even greater sense of elation in the settlement. Harry allowed Daphne to slip the companion ring onto his finger, their hands lacing together so that the rings touched. He pulled her in and kissed her deeply, her lips so soft against his that he moaned with sudden desire.

Daphne seemed to share his mood, for she wasted no time in spiriting him away from the congratulating throng, heading straight for their shared room.

Dawn was peaking in through their window as exhaustion trembled through their entwined bodies. They had made love all through the night, only to fall asleep for a short time to awaken and make love yet again. He couldn't get enough of her and her of him.

Sleep threatened to put a pause on their pre-marital bliss as they finally collapsed, her head resting on his chest as she admired the glittering rings in the golden morning light.

"I took a lock of your hair and one of mine. I transfigured them into rings and the rest was hope that you would be foolish enough to say yes to me."

"What was foolish was how long it took you." Daphne teased, her eyes still locked on the rings. He had done lovely work, strands of bright gold intertwined with his darker veins of deep brown wood. She could feel his love for her bound into them, and managed to murmur, "I love you" before biology took command and sent her into a deep and contented sleep.

Harry stroked her hair from her face before he joined her in the arms of Morpheus, no care beyond the happiness of his future wife in his heart.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

"Ah, so the love birds finally make an appearance, eh? I think you're supposed to be married first, then have a honeymoon, Harry." George teased.

Harry tried to scowl at the man, but his giddy happiness would not allow even the shadow of an ill mood to fall upon him. He merely shook his head at the banter and shrugged helplessly.

"We can have as much of a honeymoon as we like." Daphne laughed, "before, during, after. I'll have my Harry as much as I want."

Everyone gasped at her tawdriness, though Walt seemed thoroughly amused as evidenced by the hearty laugh that nearly bent the man over double.

"Everyone's talkin 'bout it. Congratulations, by the way." Sturges put in, surprising Harry that the man had made the trip from Sanctuary to visit. Harry shook his offered hand with exuberance, his affection for the mechanic made plain. Sturges was one of the best examples of muggle-kind that he knew of, ingenious and kindness being the most prevalent and important of his many traits.

"Oh yeah, I don't have to tell you that this is going to be quite the extravagant affair! Word's already spread throughout the Northern Commonwealth. It's gonna be quite the shindig."

Harry had hoped for a quick and quiet ceremony, as to him it was merely putting a stamp of legitimacy on what he had almost taken for granted. But seeing the look on Daphne's face as a beaming Hermione, Lilith and Luna swarmed her and began jabbering about a dress, a cake and all manner of nuptial preparation that needed to be done. He tried to follow it but was lost in moments. Daphne took pity no him and squeezed his hand with reassurance.

She pulled Harry's face down to hers to plant a quick kiss on his lips and murmured to him, "Don't worry, my love. So many people are going to want to be involved that there will be next to nothing for us to do except make sure we show up on time."

"A thousand raiders couldn't keep me away." He swore quietly, Daphne throwing a wink his way as she was pulled from him by a jabbering coterie of excited women.

"Well, seeing as how you're free for the moment, why don't you come on over to the workshop and see what Sturges here has been helping us with?" Walt requested.

"Oh yes, I was wondering what had brought you all the way here from Sanctuary." Harry replied.

"Yeah, George, Walt and I have been cooking up a little something. You see, I spend my whole day fixing up every little thing that I don't get the chance to tinker as much as I would like. I go from one end of Sanctuary to another putting stuff back together while so many projects sit on the back burner. Then, we got some of those robots from the Mechanists, and they are a great help, but they can only do so much… which got me to thinking." Sturges explained.

They walked as he spoke, Harry following along only somewhat as his mind was more than a little pre-occupied. He barely registered entering the dark domain of the resident tinkering duo and was brought up short when Sturges held a toy up for Harry's attention.

"Um… alright, what is this?"

"Sproit." The toy said, its voice sounding more like the mechanism of a badly tuned clock than anything else. It was small, shaped like a simple box with simple legs extending out the bottom and long spindly arms extending from its sides. Tiny bronze wings sprouted from its back and a single glass eye blinked at him from its front. It hopped in place as if impatient for some reaction from Harry.

"It's quite cute." Harry admitted, though he had no idea what the tiny robot toy-like construct was for.

The robot seemed pleased at the praise and braced its miniscule hands on its sides, puffing out its 'chest' with pride. It snapped its tiny fingers and trembled with concentration, its single eye closed as it worked hard at… something. Harry became alarmed, wondering if the little 'bot was going to shake itself apart or worse, explode in his hand.

Pop! A tiny tool extended from the top of its head, the jaws of the wrench almost too big and ungainly for the robot to manage. It flapped its wings and juttered over to a large device with a console attached to its front and a number of actuator arms mounted to a series of rings that circumnavigated a welded metal deck. One of the arms hung slack from a middle joint, the bolt clearly loose even to a hopelessly non-mechanically inclined Harry.

The little robot chirped loudly and was joined by a coterie of similar robots, though no two looked alike. Several others held the actuator arm in place as another hefted a large bolt and placed it in position. With a clang of excitement, the original robot used its wrench to tighten the bolt and secured the arm in place.

The robots then lined up in front of the device and held up a panoply of arms as if to say, "Ta da!"

"They are delightful!" Harry exclaimed, more taken with how wondrous the little creatures were in appearance and temper than with the task they had just done. They seemed pleased at his reaction, even going so far as to congratulate each other with handshakes and little impromptu dances.

"We made these little guys using a process similar to what was used to make the owls. They seem to have a bit of personality, cute little things, and can fix darn near anything. We made them small enough to get to where they need to go to fix things the bigger robots can't manage. Haven't come up with a name for them yet though. You really like 'em?" Sturges asked.

"They're brilliant!" Harry confirmed.

"Pending the General's permission, we'd like the Mechanist to start producing these and shipping them out to all the friendly settlements. They can't fight or anything, but it should really make life so much easier on everyone. I had about half a dozen built up and sent to Sanctuary and Jun tells me they've already fixed the water purifier and started re-attaching all the plumbing. We'll have flushing toilets and working showers in no time!"

"Plus, they can prove themselves here by helping get your massive wedding ceremony put together!" George just HAD to add.

Any further conversation was halted by a red owl that flew into the open door and skidded to a halt in front of them, scattering tiny robots and tools as it slid. The little mechanics chirped their displeasure at the owl, which the messenger pointedly ignored.

"That's a Starlight owl." Sturges noted, the emblem for the trader settlement emblazoned proudly on the owl's chest.

He bent and accepted the message the owl presented with a murmur of thanks, his eyes narrowing at the tiny tube.

"It says, 'General's eyes only'. That's Preston's handwriting. You can tell by how it's barely legible." Sturges teased, handing it over to Harry.

"I'll get this to him, I think I know what it's about." Harry announced, a hint of seriousness intruding on the moment.

* * *

 **POV: Harry**

"Preston and Roger have assembled more than twenty Minutemen at Starlight. He says they are ready for the attack." Jonathan read aloud to a small gathering composed of Harry, Daphne, Hermione, Sturges, George, Luna, Soleil, Barney and Sir Nicholas.

"So, time to re-take the Castle?" Harry asked, to which Jon merely nodded.

Harry shared meaningful looks at the others, "We'll have Captain Ironsides make immediate preparation to depart. Barney will put together a squad of his best blokes to come with us. We can be ready by no later than midday."

"Whoah. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the offer, but." Jonathan began.

"But what?" Harry interrupted, his face broadcasting his intention to be stubborn on this issue.

Jonathan sighed and glanced over at Hermione, "I was hoping that you could help me convince Hermione to stay here." He admitted.

"I'm standing right here!" She began, making everyone take an involuntary step back, "If you think you are just going to abandon me here while you run off and do what you always do and take reckless risks."

Jonathan looked helpless, his face becoming painted with something akin to distress as tears glistened in her eyes.

"You can't do this. You can't. My love for you is worth just as much yours is."

"I didn't…" He began.

"You think that you're the only one that is afraid? That you can put me in a glass case of imagined safety while you run off and be the hero? I would die if something happened to you. You can't. You… can't."

Jonathan's face crumpled at the pain and anger he had evoked from Hermione, for nothing else in this world could unman him in quite the same way as the thought of her anguish… anguish that he himself had caused.

"I didn't know if I could be brave knowing that you were in danger with me. I was selfish because I didn't consider that you would feel the same way. I only thought about myself and my own fear of losing you. I'm sorry, your love is everything to me, and I will never underestimate it again." He swore.

Taking it as an apology of sorts, Hermione grimaced and nodded her acceptance, wiping her tears away and steeling herself with determination.

Harry looked over at Daphne and saw the same fiery look that was in Hermione's eyes reflected in hers. He was silently thankful that Jonathan was the one to put his foot in his mouth, for it just spared him a great deal of suffering.

Harry cleared his throat, "So… Me, Daphne, Hermione, and…"

He mumbled a little as he noticed a man he didn't recognize raking the same spot by the window, the bald man too obviously not paying attention to what was being said to not be paying attention.

Harry picked up so as to not alert the eavesdropper, "Jonathan, Barney's squad and a few spare owls. We'll meet at the Constitution in two hours. Good?"

Jonathan agreed, "Sounds good. Thank you. I'll get my gear together."

Hermione left with him, while the others watched them leave the church. They all seemed to breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief as Hermione took the hand that Jonathan offered and they walked hand in hand to their quarters.

"Barney, will you have enough time to get enough people together?"

"No worries on that count, Harry. I got some boys and girls who are chomping at the bit to get some action now that it's so quiet around these parts. If you'll excuse me, I'll get em and join you at the ship."

"You're coming too?"

"You gonna stop me?" Barney challenged.

"Um, no. Glad to have you."

"Good. Fingers will be in command while I'm gone. Maybe keeping her busy will keep her off of Neville's back for a time. Though why he hadn't taken her up on her offer is beyond me."

"Fingers and Neville?" Harry was thoroughly confused.

"I guess she likes them shy types. Wants to make a man of him. She's a love 'em and leave 'em type though, and I'm guessing that he ain't, so I've been running interference."

Harry had had no idea. He realized that he spent too much time away to keep tabs on how everyone was doing, though in his defense, he wasn't that intuitive when it came to affairs of the heart.

He dismissed the Salem Militia Commander and bid the others farewell as he and Daphne walked from the church. He nudged her and urged that she follow behind him, subtly gesturing that she should draw her wand.

He was quietly pleased at the trust she showed him by not questioning his request, merely drawing her wand and looked around, alert.

Harry silenced their footsteps as they walked between stalks of waving corn, their heads heavy after the rains the day before.

"Did you get an earful?" Harry challenged, as the man was brought up short leaving the window where he had been eavesdropping.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, sir." The man rasped.

"Oh drop it, Deacon." Harry demanded, recognizing him now that he was up close.

Deacon sighed and set the rake he had been using on the ground, holding his hands up at the threatening way Daphne held her wand toward him.

"I thought you were going to see those kids to safety?" Harry asked, his voice staying calm despite his distaste for subterfuge.

"I did. Then I was tasked to come here and get a feel for you and yours. There are people out there who are curious as to the nature of a group of witches and wizards."

Harry bent some of his power into his next question, meeting the surprisingly strong will of the unknown actor before him, "What people? Who are you?"

The man struggled internally, weighing the pros and cons of revealing the identity of his friends to this relatively unknown.

"We're called the Railroad. We help synths escape the Institute. Give them a chance at a true life and freedom away from those who would keep them enslaved. We have a hard enough time as it is, and we needed to know which side of the fence you folks stand on."

"Can't really say, I don't really know a thing about synths." Harry answered honestly, "Though I am a fan of freewill."

"Haven't had too many run ins with the Institute?"

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"Yeah, they made a big push against us, took our last headquarters, killed a bunch of my friends. Then suddenly, nothing. Like they've all but disappeared. We don't know why, maybe you're arrival had something to do with it. Or the Rust Devils, or those new raiders gangs from the West… there's too many variables even PAM can't give us anything."

"Pam?"

"Er… nevermind. Truth is, we hoped that at the very least, we could stay out of each other's way. We don't interfere in your business, you don't get in the way of ours. But I've listened to a lot of talk over the last few days. Between you and this new General of the Minutemen… I think we might be able to do each other a solid now and again."

"Ally with the Railroad?"

"Maybe not something quite so formal, but yeah. Let's be friends and all that."

"I've heard a lot about this Institute. So much that even the mention of them is enough to scare the wits out of average folks. Are they truly so awful? Are they really responsible for even half of what people think?"

"Listen, I'm a talented liar. It comes in handy in my line of work. You can use whatever mumbo jumbo you need to let you know that what I'm about to tell you is the truth." Deacon paused expectantly, as if expecting some grandiose flourishing and some kind of light show.

Harry and Daphne simple looked at him, mild irritation clearly writ upon their faces.

Deacon sighed, "On my way here, I ran across two men fighting. Now, usually that sort of thing is not something I get involved with, but here's the thing. They were identical. It's not outside the realm of possibility that identical twins would get into a row, but one of them was screaming in a way that made me doubt that theory."

He took a couple breaths as he considered his next words, "Against my better judgement, I intervened. Long story short, one of them was an Institute synth who had been sent to murder the original and take his place. The man had a wife and kids, and for whatever reason, the Institute wanted him dead and one of their programmed slaves to take his place. For what? An experiment? To put an operative in a settlement? To foment distrust? Who knows? That's what they are. That's what they do. They act with impunity. The lives of the everyday people of the Commonwealth and the synths they enslave mean nothing to them. We're all just variables in some experiment of theirs."

Harry steepled his fingers and rubbed his forehead, a headache threatening with the addition of yet another potential threat. For as much as he didn't trust Deacon, he also knew that at heart, he was a relatively good man and more importantly… was telling the truth about his encounter.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in. But believe me that I don't mean you folks any harm… now that I have an idea as to what kind of folks you are."

"I believe you, Deacon. I've heard too much about this 'Institute' to ignore the possibility they represent a threat to my people. But I've got enough on my plate as it is, I simply didn't have the time or energy to discovering more about them."

"Well, in that, maybe we can help each other out?" Deacon asked, hopefully.

"I'll… think it over." Harry spoke slowly, his mind working, "Where can we contact you?"

"Follow the Freedom Trail." He answered cryptically, before turning and walking away.

Harry was torn as to whether he should apprehend the man or not, but decided that they had other things to take care of.

"I think Luna and Soleil could meet with them, if you think that forming a relationship with them is a good idea." Daphne proposed after the man had left.

Harry looked at her appraisingly, weighing the merits of her suggestion. Luna, though a bit odd, was a talented witch and Soleil was as savvy and tough as any muggle he knew. They worked well together, which made the coincidence of their names all the more poignant.

"Good idea. Let's talk to them before we head out."

* * *

 **POV: Preston**

He bounced on his soles, the excitement building up in him becoming a palpable manifestation as he gazed over the horizon, waiting to catch the first glimpse of the General's arrival.

Roger had taken the force for a quick meal once they received word that the General would be arriving in a matter of hours from Salem. Preston gave no thought to food though, his stomach was too busy tying itself into knots to get more than a mouthful of water down.

He thought back to those who had fallen getting the Quincy survivors to their fateful encounter at the Museum of History. He murmured their names: Emma, Josh, Alex, Gloria, Steven… their names were a litany in his mind, a constant reminder of the sacrifices given by his comrades. He wished they could have seen this, the rebirth of the Minutemen and their return to glory. Soon, with the successful conclusion of this campaign, his beloved Minutemen will at last be once again what they once were: a beacon of hope for the entire Commonwealth.

He had become distracted, so his first indication that the General was approaching came from the nervous lows from the brahmin pens and the excited chatter of a mob of children, the little ones swarming the Pre-War awning where he had waited, jostling him with their excitement.

White teeth gleamed in his face as he saw the happy faces on the healthy and well-fed children. This is what he fought for, what he had sought meaning in all those years ago when he had volunteered and joined up with Colonel Hollis's group.

The Constitution sailed close with a majestic air, gliding up and tacking against the wind as it approached the settlement.

Preston could hear the creaking wood of the ancient vessel as robotic crew stomped and rolled across its deck, a Mr. Lookout floating off the rails with a thick rope in its claws.

The Minutemen had installed a thirty foot dock braced with thick steel struts which extended above the planks and forming a sort of frame. The Mr. Lookout jetted for the right pylon and looped the rope around it. It was followed by a second Mr. Lookout with another rope, who looped his line to the left pylon. With a groan of protest, the Constitution butted against the ramp and settled into a gently bobbing hover.

The intimidating presence of Captain Ironsides was the only thing that Preston expected kept the children from racing up the lowering gang plank onto the ship. However, even Garvey could see that even his imposing bulwark could not forever stymie the tide of a child's curiosity. Thankfully, Roger led the platoon strength Minutemen in a jog and formed a cordon around the entrance to the ramp, to the marked disappointment of the little ones.

Preston was all smiles as he dropped down from the awning and met his friend and commander at the foot of the ramp. The General was the picture of heroism and Preston was proud to note that he had dressed for the occasion in Minuteman colors with their badge prominently emblazoned on his chest armor.

"Good to see you sir." Preston grinned, coming to attention.

Jonathan waved off the formality and shook his hand warmly, "Good to see you too Preston. Are the men ready to make history?"

Preston turned to the squad and nodded at Roger, who turned and addressed the platoon, "The Castle awaits! Are you ready?"

"Liberty or Death!" They cried in unison, as if carefully practiced by the men and women and thus all the more powerful for their rehearsal. Their cry was a bellicose roar of defiance and set the watching crowd's hearts afire with zeal to witness it.

Jonathan's face beamed with pride as he clapped Preston on the back and waved for the men to board. Hermione stepped in tandem with the General and served well to represent Salem's dedication to her allies. The Minutemen saluted the General as they passed, and again as they passed Hermione. Preston grinned at the blush that bloomed on her cheeks as she recognized the awe that the men and women paid her.

The final four were girded in power armor, the heavy suits shaking the ground as they marched up single file to board the ship. Each one bore heavy weapons to support their brothers and sisters, three wielding mini-guns and one with a missile launcher, upon which some enterprising individual had written, 'Special delivery.'

Finally, a pair of modified sentry bots and a pair of assaultrons took up the rear, their powder blue paint so new that their casings gleamed in the sunlight.

"That's everyone." Preston affirmed.

"Alright, next stop… The Castle."

* * *

 **A/N:** I gave some attention to my other fic, writing up two chapters for that story, so didn't have much time left for this one. Accept my apologies for the length of time I'm making you wait for each chapter. We are on Spring Break now, so I do have a little bit of time to do some more writing so that the next update should be faster. Thanks for your patience.


End file.
